


Wanplei Nou Laik Eno

by orangeyouglad8



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: All Bets Are Off, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death Fix, Clarke's brain is super fucked up, F/F, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, I promise it will all be okay, In the end, and then, and they do, and they help each other heal, because you all know how romantical i can get, death is not the end, girl has been through a lot, in body and soul, just a little, okay fine i promise there is fluff, or a lot, there might be some fluff, they both have to heal, they find a way back to each other, they just have to get there, tw: 307, tw: PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2019-09-28 18:56:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 56,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17188523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeyouglad8/pseuds/orangeyouglad8
Summary: The legend was changed that day.Rewritten.Born Anew.The day she woke up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! I don't know why I wandered into canon but boy did I. This message serves as a warning that this fic, while divergent from the canon events of 307 and beyond, does discuss them in detail. Please take that into account before reading. If you cannot handle details or descriptions from that episode and that event, you may find this fic hard to read. I have not held back any of the trauma that happened. With that being said, this is somewhat of a fix-it fic. Everything will be better in due time.

 

 

"There's something you need to see." Indra comes to her at night. Quiet. Bloodied and bruised but unbroken.

"Can it wait?" Clarke responds, tired. The war. The awakening aftermath. The wound in her arm still aching where Ontari's blood was pulled into her body. Nightblood.  _Her_  blood. Clarke's heart wrenches in her chest. Lexa's touch on her cheek still so real. The kiss. The look on her face as she charged into battle again to distract the enemy. To help Clarke.

Helping Clarke is what got her killed.

"I would not have come to you if it could," Indra replies. Her harsh tone softer than Clarke has ever heard it but still commanding. "It will be easier under the cover of darkness."

Clarke heaves out a sigh and swings her legs off the stone ledge by the window. The tower took some hits, but still stands sturdy and strong. Polis never looked like the gleaming cities Clarke grew up seeing in books, on slides, in their stored histories on the Ark, but it seems none the worse for wear.

The City of light has been destroyed, ALIE has been eliminated, and all of her people-  _their_  people- have woken up. Her mother is assessing as many as she can down at a makeshift clinic.

Clarke never expected to see anything like this when she landed. Every single moment she has been on the ground has been more spectacular than anything she imagined living in a floating metal box in the sky.

She brushes off her pants and pulls on the soft, worn leather jacket that came to her room in the tower not so long ago. Two servants brought it to her at the request of the Commander, implored her to bathe, to change, to eat.

Clarke wanted none of that.

Nothing could shake the anger, the heartbreak, the grief off of her. The blood.

Not even when Lexa appeared.

The leather was well kept, cared for. supple beneath her fingers. Her heart leaps into her throat for a moment, a beat, before she forces it back down.

Checks her pocket again for the small metal box that has become the most important thing to Clarke. She grabs a knife and slides it into her boot and straightens up. Bone tired but unable to do anything but stare at the ceiling and try to decipher shapes made from the flickering candles that stand on the small table.

Indra nods and quietly leaves the room. Clarke follows her down the dark hallways, still littered with fragments from the fight that ended not even a day ago. Blood, weapons, bricks and stone.

It feels unreal.

A waking nightmare.

She should have taken the sleeping pills her mother brought her. No small offer, their limited supply dwindling. Saved only for the most necessary uses here on the ground.

Instead, she placed them in a drawer and sat looking out the window again. The stars so far away, so different from the view she had for the first 17 years of her life.

Indra's steps are quiet. Clarke stays close, just a step behind her. They carry no torches, no light. Nothing to give them away but for the odd footfall that Clarke cannot help but make. She learned how to be quiet in the woods. How to soften the placement of her weight to stalk, to hunt. To survive.

But she's not perfect. Does not have the years of training Indra has.

They move down the tower swiftly, around the back and out a door Clarke has never even seen let alone been through, and into the city streets. There are guards, none of whom look twice at Indra. Clarke can see now how gingerly she steps, how she tries to hide the wounds and the bruises that undoubtedly cover her body. Stubborn to her core, she did not accept any help.

The moon is bright enough to light their path through Polis, guide them around the monuments Clarke was just beginning to learn, to know. It's cold. Frigid. She did not dress properly for this journey.

They weave through alleys, around crumbling buildings. Through the training grounds. By the site where the Commander threw a spear into the heart of the Ice Queen. Clarke sees each memory flicker before her eyes before she blinks them away.

She can't allow them to flood through her again.

Not again.

Not after all of it.

They walk by the strange place Murphy found the paintings on the wall. The piece of the ship that came down with Becca. The beginnings of all of it. The lore. The legend. The religion.

Indra's gait slows as they leave the city proper and travel into the woods that surround it. There were homes here once. Suburban extensions of the life that beat inside the cities before the bombs. Overgrown and forgotten.

She finds a torch and lights it from one of the signal lamps that remain lit at each guard post. Nudges her head for Clarke to follow her even still. They do not walk far, but she takes a path that seems hidden. A lot of things seemed hidden to Clarke before she figured out how to see them.

How to feel them.

Indra draws to a stop. Waits for Clarke to stand next to her. She doesn't ask why, she knows better. Indra was not someone to be toyed with before all of the... mess.

She could have dragged Clarke out here to kill her for all she knows.

She'd maybe welcome it at this point.

Clarke's own pleading, her own misguided ideas led to so much destruction.

The silence envelops them. The nighttime sounds of the forest stir again in the stillness.

"I want you to know before we go any further that I did not know what was here until today."

"Okay…" Clarke's heart kicks up, adrenaline spiking. What fresh hell has Indra brought upon them now?

"I also want you to know that everything that came before, while not forgotten, must be placed aside."

"I hear you," Clarke says. Indra holds her gaze for a long moment. Her eyes not backing down until she feels Clarke's assurances.

"Swear it."

Clarke doesn't back down. "Yes. I swear it."

Indra holds for what feels like an eternity before she grips the sword at her side and turns. "Come then, we've waited long enough." She continues down the path for another few moments until they come across an old abandoned station in the ground, not unlike the one Roan pulled Clarke into when he captured her. Bound and gagged.

This one looks bigger from the outside. Almost as if it was a hub. Her memory flits through the boring history classes she suffered through, not understanding why they were necessary in space.

Subways.

Underground methods of transportation, popular in many of the large cities. Tunnels and lines drawn all over the grids, but hidden underneath within layers of dirt and steel and wires.

She follows Indra down into concrete and tile. Images and dreams of life a hundred years ago find their way into Clarke's brain. She reaches out and touches the cool tile wall, almost humming with memory.

When they reach the bottom, there is a small hint of light.

It glows from farther back.

A million questions pop up just waiting for Clarke to open her mouth so they can all spill out but, something keeps them inside. Just behind her teeth.

Stuck in her throat.

Her heart nearly stops beating and yet it runs a race within the walls of her chest.

Her hands sweat and her neck tingles.

"Indra-" she whispers.

Indra doesn't respond. She continues to walk steadfastly next to Clarke. Farther and farther into the station. Benches and weeds and dirt and papers and the smell that Clarke is beginning to associate with damp earth surround them.

And still the light grows.

Indra places her hand on Clarke's elbow and guides her to stop just before they turn a corner.

"What you see here must remain a secret," she warns.

Clarke doesn't know why, but her mouth feels dry. She dips her head once, slowly.

" _Dise_ ," she pushes Clarke ahead of her now. Allows her to walk blindly into whatever awaits around the corner.

There are torches spread out on the walls. Candles lit on a few tables. Chairs and stools. Piles of blankets and makeshift beds. At the center of it all is a table, surrounded by light.

A table, bearing a body.

Clarke's knees give out but Indra catches her.

Her heart does stop beating then. Her breathing stops and all thoughts rush from her mind.

She's there. Her stomach rising and falling with shallow breaths. So shallow Clarke would have missed them if she wasn't looking, wasn't begging for them to be there. Thinks it a trick. Knows it to be one.

But then she turns her head to follow the movement that comes out of the darkness.

Aden.

Alive. His arm in a sling and dirt on his cheeks but alive. And whole.

A cry leaves her without warning and she does fall now. Not even Indra could stop her knees from hitting the ground below them.

 

Xx

 

A cool compress is the first thing she registers. Low murmured voices surround her and the cloth bats at her face, her brow, gently.

They're speaking in  _trigedasleng_. She recognizes a few of the voices, voices she thought lost forever. She opens her mouth to speak but out comes a groan instead. When she opens her eyes she finds Aden there, holding the cloth in his good hand with a small smile for her.

" _Wanheda_ ," he greets gently.

"Aden," her voice cracks. She rises up off the pile of blankets they placed her in. Indra comes over to assist, to pull her to her feet.

She stands then, ignoring the pounding in her own head and the bruises she can feel forming on her knees. Her gaze, her entire being, only focused on one thing.

_Lexa_.

She's at the table before she realizes it, almost afraid to reach out and touch. But the instinct overtakes her before her mind can grapple with it too long, her hand feeling for a pulse on a slim wrist.

It's there. Weak but even. Regular.

It all comes rushing up then. The tears, hot and wet. The pain. The look on that face in the City of Light when Clarke didn't want to let her go.

"How?"

She doesn't want to trust reality. Not even sure of what is before her anymore. What is reality if it can be so easily manipulated.

Indra joins her at the table. Gets close but does not touch, only looks at Lexa's sleeping figure.

"Maryl."

Clarke hums in confusion, unwilling to take her eyes off Lexa. Unwilling to believe that Lexa is here, breathing, warm, in front of her. It's a dream. A cruel dream. She'll wake up in the morning with her heart ripped out of her chest and tears on her cheeks again.

It'll be worse than the City of Light.

This is even more real, even easier to believe.

Grounded in the world she's known for months.

But Lexa is here before her and she cannot look away. Wants to memorize every detail of that face.

She aches to lift up the blanket, to see if Lexa will have a scar in this dream. If the wounds will mar her body.

But she doesn't. Can't.

Indra says that word again, "Maryl". Clarke doesn't know what it means. Hasn't heard it before.

Lexa's calloused hand lies in hers and Lexa's soft breaths fill the air and oh how awful the waking will be.

She looks paler than she did in the City of Light. Her lips are dry and chapped, her hair a mess.

Points for accuracy, Clarke thinks bitterly.

Clarke was able to feel her in there, too. Will this be a new component of all of her wicked dreams? Feeling Lexa again and again and losing her just the same.

Feeling her own wounds, her own aches, too. Even in sleep.

She'll have to ask her mother about that. Nothing seems normal anymore.

For the second time tonight a figure moves out of the darkness and over to the table. She's small and slight and looks like a miniature Indra. The same wide eyes, the same stern expression. It looks different on a face so small. Even more imposing.

It wasn't a word Indra was saying, but a name. Maryl.

Clarke lifts a brow and looks at Indra.

"My brother's child. Brought to Polis to train."

"A nightblood?"

Indra and Maryl both shake their heads, but it is Maryl who speaks. "I was given to Titus. To train as  _fleimkepa_. An honor almost as great as that of training to be Commander."

Clarke flinches at his name. Those frenzied images of that night flash through her. Her stomach drops. Lexa never told her that there were _fleimkepa_  in training. They only ever talked about the  _natblida_. It makes sense. One to carry on the flame, one to protect it.

She comes to stand at the table on the opposite side. Checks on Lexa's pulse just as Clarke did. Hums silently. Lifts the blankets and Clarke sees the bandage there on Lexa's torso. It's covered in clay, packed tight. But there is bruising visible on her, and not all of her black blood has been cleanly washed away. Clarke eyes her neck, sees the edges of the same clay there. Resting against the small pile of fabric that acts as a makeshift pillow for her head.

Bile rises up in her throat and her hearing goes out, all she can register is a fuzzy ringing in her ears.

Fuck, she's going to pass out again. Why did she skip dinner?

Her vision goes blurry for a few seconds and she sways. Indra grabs her again. Sends her a healthy glare for good measure. Clarke fights it off and clears her throat.

"Is this…" She can't finish her question. Cannot bear to say it. Ask it. Have it be a dream.

"The Commander was brought here that night. You are not asleep Clarke."

"I wasn't asleep in the City of Light either," she spits back out.

Indra slaps her then. Once. Hard and definitive. Her eyes  _almost_  apologetic as Clarke cups her stinging cheek.

"You are not asleep and we need your help."

Maryl studies her with that same expression Indra wears. Wondering if it was a mistake to bring her here probably.

"She's alive?"

"The Commander still lives," Maryl answers. She pulls the blankets back over Lexa and pats them down.

Clarke shakes her head, still unwilling to believe it. Unwilling to hope. "I watched her-" she can't say the word, so she skips it instead. "He moved so fast, took the flame and then took her away."

"She was not gone."

Clarke breaks. Tears run down her cheeks and a sob rips from her throat. All of it catches up to her. She hardened herself against the grief but it was there, tearing apart her insides all the same.

The flame sits in her pocket, burning against her skin. She feels the weight that has become both familiar and soothing since that moment. It was all she had. It was Lexa.

But Lexa is here in front of her. Somehow.

"How?"

"I took her. He was mad, like one of the animals.  _Haken_. He believed her gone."

"He killed her," Clarke states. The pain of it layered in her voice. "He tried to kill me."

"He left me with her, told me to prepare the body for the ceremony. He couldn't look at her, didn't see that she was breathing. I gathered the  _natblida_ , we brought her here."

Aden joins them, then. His expression solemn. "We couldn't tell you. We were sworn to protect her."

"Better to have me think she's dead?"

"Safer. If anyone had found out and found her in this state, they could have finished it," Indra is the one to reply. "They didn't tell me until the fighting was over."

"She has not been woken. I gave her a brew to help her sleep and to aid the healing."

"You put her in a coma?"

"She is asleep. She dreams, she murmurs and cries out. But she's safe."

Clarke swallows hard, her eyes never leaving Lexa's face. She sees the fluttering there, behind closed eyelids. The way her brow seems furrowed, how often she'd look that way while deep in thought. Millions of thoughts racing through her mind.

It strikes her then, how odd it was to have the Flame in her own head, even for a brief amount of time.

"Has she been awake at all?" She croaks out. Unable to deal with the thought of having Lexa here and alive but not really.

Death was better.

"Yes."

Maryl's English is fluid. Lightly accented, but strong.

"Did she speak?"

"She asked for you. Only for you, _Wanheda_."

"Clarke."

Maryl bows her head in apology. "We knew what happened, she would not lie still. We could not assess her wounds and she was losing blood. We had to drug her to stitch her."

"Who stitched her?"

"I did," Maryl answers. "We have been taught such things in order to protect Heda. It is part of our training."

" _Fleimkepa_ are taught with the healers, protecting the Flame is the highest order. That protection includes from those within the circle who wish harm upon the Heda.  _Fleimkepa_ must act swiftly, discreetly." Indra speaks quietly, but with a sense of pride Clarke can hear in her tone.

"I would like to look at her," Clarke says, reaching to move the blanket back. The medical knowledge she has had shoved in her brain for the entirety of her life coming to the forefront. Instincts, again, taking over.

Maryl places her hand atop Clarke's and moves it away with a gentle shake of her head. "The healing clay must stay on for another day."

"She could have an infection, we have to monitor the wound." It comes out snappier than Clarke intended but a sudden worry has sprung up inside of her. Her hands shake. Lexa is here and so close and yet, and yet, so many things could go wrong. She tries again to pull back the blanket but it's Indra who reaches out and stops her this time.

"Clarke." It is an admonishment and a command all at once. Clarke struggles for only a few seconds longer before stopping. "I did not bring you here to cause trouble or distress. Right now you are a guest. We will need your help once the clay is removed, but only then. We will need to figure out a plan forward."

A plan forward? How, how can they move forward when Lexa is here, asleep and a figment of her imagination?

She won't believe it, will not trust this until she can see with her own eyes, feel with her hands. Until Lexa wakes.

Maybe not even then.

It is the cruelest version thus far. To have Lexa here and yet not.

This doesn't feel like the City of Light. The distinct buzzing she could feel in her bones while there is not currently present. She knows, she knows the City of Light was destroyed but… but…

This could be delusion. She hasn't slept. Is too afraid to sleep. Too afraid to see Lexa fall before her again. Too afraid to feel Lexa's arms around her in a strange place of tall buildings and roads.

The stress of it all, the grief. So much blood. So much death and destruction. What if she's having a breakdown?

What if she wakes up sequestered on the old skeleton of the Ark in the room with the bright lights and the bed, with her mother writing furiously in a chart.

Lexa will be gone then.

Again.

"Clarke," someone calls but she doesn't turn. Her eyes are still locked on Lexa's stomach rising and falling evenly. She's breathing. If this was a dream… "Clarke." A hand touches her elbow and she takes a deep breath.

Aden has moved. Stands beside her.  _Aden_.

"I thought you died. I thought you all died," she chokes out.

"We had to stay here." He is quiet, it is almost an apology. "We had to guard her."

"You lied to me," she says, too weak to have any fire in it.

"Our duty was always to  _Heda_." He pauses, a brief look of pain crosses his face. "We are all that remain… we lost the rest."

She nods then, accepting it. Accepting all of it as much as she can. It suddenly overwhelms her, her legs feel shaky. Unsteady. "Can you bring me a stool? I'd like to sit by her."

Someone drags over one of the small stools that have been brought here to this underground bunker of sorts. One of the  _natblida_ drapes a blanket around her shoulders.

A chill goes through her then.

Shock.

She's in shock.

"How did you all get down here? How did you get her here?" She reaches out and holds Lexa's hand again. Unafraid to show how much she cares for the Commander. There has been too much happening to hide that any longer from others. From herself.

"There are secret tunnels under the tower. Known only to the  _fleimkepa,_ " Maryl answers. She glances up then at Aden, at Indra. "We will show you the one that leads here."

The requirement to be discreet hangs in the air unspoken. Clarke keeps eye contact with Indra, then Maryl, sealing them in this pact.

Her eyes droop, a wave of exhaustion sweeping over. The adrenaline rush leaving her wasted and hollow. She puts her forehead down on Lexa's arm, their hands still twined together. For a moment, for a breath, she tries to fight it. Lexa is here, alive, in  _this_  world. She doesn't want it to end.

Doesn't want her heart to shatter yet again.

It seems bound to happen.

"Rest now, Clarke. We have some time," Indra says quietly.

Clarke can't fight it any longer. Falling asleep hunched over on the stool beside Lexa's healing body. The deepest, quickest sleep she's succumbed to on this earth.

 

Xx

 

A warm hand on her shoulder wakes her. Pulls her from deep slumber.

She starts, unsure of where she is. The air smells heavy, feels sticky. A hand is resting in her own and her heart leaps.

Lexa.

Still and asleep.

If this is a delusion it's stubborn. Indra squeezes her shoulder and let's go. "We must get back to the tower before they realize you've gone. It is almost daybreak."

Clarke nods, straightens and stretches her sore neck. She feels… she isn't sure what she feels. A mixture of relief and refreshment from sleep, perhaps. A dose of anxiety about the dead commander of the blood sitting in a coma on a slab table in a dank underground bunker. A good old fashioned laugh at the odd alternate life she finds herself in now.

She rises from the stool and squeezes Lexa's hand before untangling them. She can't help but check Lexa's forehead, making sure she isn't running a fever. For all she knows Lexa could be. Nightblood is not anything she's seen before. There is no precedent for this in her medical knowledge.

Maryl hands her a cup filled with some sort of tea. She gulps it down before asking what's in it, her parched tongue aching for it. Not even caring. It could be poison to remove her from the situation now that she knows the truth. It's not smart, but Clarke's thirst is overpowering rationality.

Now that she's had some rest she eyes the room a bit better. There are supplies stacked along tables that line one of the tiled walls. There appears to be another area further down one of the tunnels. She can see stockpiles of food. One of the  _natblida_ sits on the floor near a small fire and skins a pair of rabbits.

They're making do here.

"So, where's the secret tunnel?" Clarke almost jokes. It falls flat.

"We will go back the way we came, the guards will need to see us."

"How do we know they won't follow?" The look Indra serves her is a thing of beauty. Clarke laughs, right of course. She knows better. "How many circles did you lead me in last night?"

Indra doesn't answer. Aden whispers something to a smaller boy and rises to join them. "Someone will meet you in the hallway Indra will show you today on your way back, just as twilight falls. Do not be late."

Clarke wants to say she is still learning the intricacies of the tower, that it took some damage in the fight that occurred. That she gets lost sometimes in the twisty hallways, not concerned with learning her way through it. There was always a guard of some kind with her before. She doesn't say that. She will mark it in memory today, whatever spot Indra shows her.

"We will remove the clay tonight. You will be able to assess Heda then," Maryl adds, gently. More gently than Clarke would have if their positions were flipped.

And then they're moving, Indra silent and swift. Back through the tunnels that brought them here. Back up the steps, back into the forest that has started to come alive with the sounds of a new dawn.

A new life.

 

Xx

 

The frenzy hasn't died down at all while Clarke has been underground. She returns to her room with just enough time to wash up and change her shirt before the morning meal- something that has still run like clockwork even as everything has fallen apart. The kitchens in the tower have still churned out food to the masses who stream in, who live there, who call this odd place home. Even though everything almost spiraled into ruins. Even though so many people have started coming out of their trances, have tried to reconcile all the bad they did under the influence of ALIE, of Jaha. The kitchens still work, and cook, and bake, and provide comfort.

Jaha sits in the clinic. Bound. Guarded.

Her mother couldn't let him detox on his own. Their past friendship aside, he was the one who was most affected. Had the longest tenure inside the City.

Built the biggest life, made the most promises.

It's all over now. Abby said his brain might react the same way as if he'd been addicted to drugs or the grain alcohol they used to brew on the Ark. She'd never leave him to suffer, not if she could help it.

Abby shoved aside her own pain and anguish to help those around her who had it worse. Shut off her own feelings. It's nothing new. Clarke has seen it done a hundred times. Has felt the sting of it often enough that it hardly bothers her anymore.

Clarke is delivered a tray with two freshly baked rolls, still warm from the oven, a small crock of jam and a little tub of honey next to a pile of butter. Her mouth waters instantly upon smelling it. Her appetite roaring back now that she's had some sleep. She's barely through one when her first caller arrives.

Her duties never done. She's been appointed,  _still_ , chief fixer of problems. They've all begun relying on her, turning to her, in just a few short days. It makes her itch.

"Clarke, oh good, you're eating." Raven works her crutches with a look of anguish on her face. Plops herself on the bed with a grunt. Clarke tries not to send her a sympathetic look, but ever since Raven's been awake again, her pain has been worse. "Listen, your mom needs help in the clinic and she's never going to ask you. And the only reason I'm up here asking you is because I think you need some fresh air."

"Since when do you care?" It's still odd between them. Every time Clarke thinks they're getting over another hurdle, something else crops up.

"Since I need your mom to work on fixing my fucking leg and she can't do that if she's spoon feeding all the other people down there who don't know what to do."

Clarke takes another bite and watches Raven's eyes follow it to her mouth. It was only recently that Clarke discovered that all the food that used to be reserved for Lexa has started coming to her. It is a strange perk she has decided not to ask about.

These people currently have no leader. Or… one that they know of. Rather, one that is awake. Clarke shakes her head, still not even sure that she wasn't dreaming that after all.

After the disaster with Ontari and the  _natblida_ , there is no way to hold another coalition. There is no way to move forward. Not when their astoundingly stupid process for choosing a leader has been stopped dead in its tracks. Not when so many people are trying to go back to their regular lives.

"None of them want to go back home and go back to what they were doing before they took that dumb chip."

"Well, you're here in Polis aren't you?"

Raven glares, but it loses power when she eyes the food on Clarke's plate again.

"Again, I need your mom's expertise- she's got equipment here and I brought more from the Ark."

"And you want me to help her?"

"Yes."

"Where's Nyko?"

"Word on the street is that he's been traveling from village to village. Won't come back here now that-" Raven catches herself and eyes Clarke warily.

The bite of food in her mouth turns to dust. She swallows harshly and clears her throat. She remembers how Raven ranted at her. Teased her. It wasn't really Raven, but the impersonator had the same face that Clarke grew up seeing. Had the same tone in her voice. Wore the same wicked smile. Cried in the way that made Clarke's heart pang in her chest.

She downs half of the tea that was brought to her in two big gulps. "Has anyone seen Octavia?"

Raven shakes her head. "Not since Bellamy was arrested." Her voice lacks the traditional sass.

Before she can add anything to the discussion, a soft knock breaks the silence. "Enter," Clarke calls.

The same girl who delivered her breakfast tray peeks in. " _Wanheda_ , the Ice King has arrived back in Polis. He's requesting your presence." Her voice is small, meek. She looks apologetic for interrupting though it is her job.

"Of course he is," Clarke replies, not bothering to hide the eye roll. The girl goes to close the door and retreat, but Clarke stops her. "What's your name?"

"Karis," she says it with a slight bow. Clarke can see Raven perk up at that.

"Karis, you don't have to apologize when you walk in here unless I've explicitly said I did not want to be disturbed."

Karis seems to understand and bows again before leaving without another word.

"Dude…" Raven snarks from the bed.

"Don't," is all Clarke can say. She hands Raven the tray along with the last half of her breakfast and leaves the room. The hallway is mostly deserted, but for the two guards that stand at the end. Clarke walks by what used to be her room here, the doors sealed shut. She cannot bear to stand stepping foot in there. Not in that room.

Not in the place she lost Lexa.

Lexa's rooms are farther down. She hasn't gone there either. Will not reside inside those walls though they are more protected.

Memories are too strong in there as well.

Sunlit skin. Eyes that burned into her. The touch that brought new life into her bones, her lungs.

She wanders past, down the staircase one floor. The throne room devastated from the fighting. She refuses to sit in Lexa's throne again.

It is still  _her_  throne. Lexa's.

The only rightful leader.

Roan waits, his hands behind his back. He studies the room with a grim eye. Clarke watches him for a long moment before she enters.

"You alright?"

He turns at her voice. Removes his hands and smirks. His face is bruised, one eye swollen shut. His lip has been split open. She's surprised he can manage the smirk.

"I've been better," he replies. "You?"

"Oh, this? This is nothing," she states, waving a hand around the room.

They share a comfortable silence. He steps forward. "I'd like to take Ontari's body back to the Ice Nation. Perform our rituals there. Even my mother's puppets deserve a proper burial in our tradition."

Clarke takes a deep breath, ready to answer. To deny his request. He sees it on her face before she can.

"She's already been prepared then?"

"Yes. She is to be placed on the pyre with the rest of the people who died during the battle."

"Not given a Commander's rites either, then?" Something glints in his eyes.

"Ontari was not the true Commander. She never took the Flame and she was not chosen. More than enough people knew that, Roan."

He scoffs. "Enjoying this?"

The turn takes her by surprise for a second. "I didn't choose this. Neither did you."

"And yet, here we are. Wan _heda_."

She laughs then. A loud one. All of it cracking around her. When will she wake up from this? When will Lexa? Oh hell, none of that was real. She knows it. Lexa is as alive as the _pramheda._

 

Xx

 

The spot where she's been told to wait is as out of the way as she would have ever thought. The tower is still buzzing with movement and people, the kitchens are still producing food, but here, in the tiny hallway off of a random large room filled with cobwebs and dust, there is nothing but silence.

Clarke can't even hear the noise that is no doubt still being made elsewhere.

All she has are her own thoughts, her own footsteps as she paces the floor, her own quiet sighs.

Why is she here? How long will she allow herself to wait to be proven right? That it was all a dream. Her stomach grows tenser with each passing moment. Her legs were shaky as she ducked out of her rooms and made her way to the spot.

She wars with herself. Most of her wants to leave, to go back to her rooms or find her mother or distract herself with something else entirely. The small part, the dominating part of her, the stubborn, reckless piece that roars to life more than it should, stands its ground.

She will wait here. She will be brought back to Lexa. She will handle all that comes.

There are footsteps in the hallway that call her attention. Clarke knows that whoever is making them is stepping louder than normal on purpose. It's the small boy Aden was speaking to before she left the bunker. He stops and greets her with a tiny dip of the head and then turns and is off, expecting her to follow without a word.

His footfalls are silent.

She follows him down passageways, staircases, and into an underground tunnel. The torch casting an odd, eerie glow over everything. It looks as if it was a part of the subway line, there are tracks and tiled walls. Lights that sit old and forgotten, dark. Switches that would change tracks. All things they studied in tech history classes on board the Ark.

It's fascinating.

They pass platforms, all named in dark letters along the tiled walls. Wildlife has infected every inch of this underground system and yet… Clarke can imagine just how it used to be. Crowds bustling to and fro, trains flying down tracks. A strange pull of nostalgia creeps up her gut. Odd. Another lifetime perhaps.

It's not hard to imagine it. Not after her brief, albeit altering, tenure in the City of Light.

It's a long walk, but they finally turn and Clarke can see a light in the distance. Her heart skips a beat.

She wills it not to.

Her legs carry her faster now. Her stomach fills with dread, with hope. The hope is worse. They arrive in the bunker from the opposite side.

Indra is not here but Maryl greets them with a quiet welcome. She's carrying a bowl of steaming water, a few towels placed over her arm. She looks even younger than she did last night. The boy who led Clarke here hooks the torch up on the wall and takes his leave.

Clarke finally lets her eyes fall on the table that still sits in the middle of the room. Still surrounded by candles. Still holding Lexa.

Lexa.

Her stomach rising and falling even now in shallow even breaths.

Clarke's hearing gets muddled and she struggles to breathe. Lexa is here. Lexa is still here. Lexa is alive.

Lexa is alive.

 

Xx

 

Maryl has chipped away the gray clay on Lexa's torso and wipes the rest of it off gently. The bruising isn't as bad as Clarke would have thought, perhaps some of it was a trick of the light on the strange black blood that lives in her veins. She helps Maryl cut through the bandages that were wrapped around Lexa, under the clay. She studies the way the clay seeped in through the fabric, created a kind of film over the rough stitching.

Her hands begin to shake when she sees it.

The wound.

The one she tried so desperately to pack, to hold. Knowing it would have been hard to stop, but it wasn't in a deadly spot.

It just…

It all happened so fast.

She closes her eyes and tries to breathe, to steady herself. Black spots appear before her eyes. Fuck, if she faints again…

Maryl's small hands rest on hers. "Clarke," she calls gently.

Clarke opens her eyes and looks up. She knows her vision is clouding with tears. She knows there is a vulnerability there, in this. That her hands are still shaking. She knows all of it is being laid bare for the  _natblida_ in this room, for the _fleimkepa_.

"She has healed well," Maryl ignores it all and continues as if nothing happened. She moves Clarke's hands to the wound. Guides her through what she did on that frantic night. "Whatever you did before Titus moved her was enough to help me."

"I didn't…" she can't even finish her thought. All of it flashing before her. The shots. The blood. Lexa's face. The way her hands were stained black, black, black.

"Nightbloods heal faster than others. Something in their blood moves quicker- it was listed in Pramheda's journals."

Clarke finally looks back down. She sees not the gaping wound, bleeding, looking so much like an open void against Lexa's shirt. But the taut skin that surrounds it. The stitches that were so hastily done they'll leave a jagged scar on her belly for the remainder of her life. The traces of clay that has not yet been washed away.

She can breathe just that much easier.

She won't be able to breathe until Lexa opens her eyes.

Maryl instructs her to wash away all of the clay she can. The  _natblida_ assembled here bring over new bowls of hot water for them. Clarke worries about infection, still. They've finally washed all of it from both Lexa's torso and neck. Her hair has been rebraided out of the way of their work, it looks cleaner. Someone must have taken the time to care for her, even in sleep.

Clarke studies the intricate set of stitches that adorn Lexa's skin. They're quite advanced. Quickly done, and placed at odd angles. "You stitched these?" Clarke is impressed, to say the least.

Grateful.

Even more so for the way she can switch back into medical mode. Set to work.

Maryl nods. "I've studied with the healers for as long as I can remember."

"This stitch takes a lot of skill. I've seen doctors on the Ark who couldn't master it."

"I would have liked to have used a different substance, but this was the nearest I had. She will have a scar."

"I'm not sure she'll mind it." Clarke assesses the skin, it's healed far better than she would have thought for a wound so deep. There is hardly any scabbing left on the surface. It's fascinating. She wants to ask more questions about the odd properties of nightblood but doesn't want to press her luck.

"Would you like to remove them?" Maryl hands a very sharp set of tweezers over to her, the ends have been whittled down to small blades. Nothing at all like the rusty set of tools Titus used to remove the Flame. Clarke shudders at the thought, the memory.

That fucking bastard. If he wasn't already dead she's not sure what she'd do.

She leans closer to the skin to take a better look at her entry points. She can feel Lexa's body heat. Can see her breathing. Feel her.

"She won't feel it?"

Maryl shakes her head. "But the brew will wear off in a few hours."

"How've you been keeping her hydrated?"

"The mixture I gave her allows for her to wake, but in an altered state. Not entirely present. It was enough for me to give her water, tea."

"What's in it?"

Maryl only gives her a sly smile in return. These _fleimkepa_ and their secrets.

"I will not give her more. Once the stitches are out, and now that the fighting is over she can wake fully."

_If_  she wakes fully, Clarke thinks. Instead of continuing the conversation she gets to work. The sharp tweezers make quick work of the stitches in Lexa's skin. She pulls and tugs them loose, careful to wipe away any of the blood and scabs that fall free as she does so. It's still tender, she can tell. There's a pink-ish hue to the wound. If she could call it pink. It's more of a mottled purple but appears healthy. "Is this how wounds look on  _natblida_?" She asks Maryl, who simply nods.

She wants to know more and to know it now. But that will have to wait. She will have to work for it, she can already assume that much.

Maryl cleans the skin around both wounds again. Lexa looks so odd there on the table in her black pants and what is essentially a crop top. Clarke wonders if it is more undignified than being naked. Can't have the _heda_ looking anything less than dignified, though.

"Did you eat?" Aden sits next to Clarke by Lexa's side. He studies her face and her newly exposed healing wounds with nothing short of adoration. Fear. Awe.

"No," she says. Leaving out the part where she was too nervous. Leaving out the part where she didn't believe that this was real.

She's still not convinced.

"We have some stew left," he offers quietly.

"I'm okay."

He stops trying. After a long stretch between them he speaks again. "It's good that you're here. She would want you here."

"I'm glad you're alive," Clarke answers. Not touching his statement about Lexa. Not even near ready to touch it.

She's had the time, since losing her, to understand what all those feelings were brewing and boiling under the surface for weeks and weeks in the woods and then in the tower. She's had the time to think about it.

But she thought it was gone. Forever.

Now, now who knows.

Lexa's color looks a little bit better—it may just be because Clarke has grown used to her in this light.

 

Xx

 

Clarke refuses to leave for the night. Maryl and Aden give up easily enough that she thinks they knew she'd stay. But, for show, they tried.

Tried to get her to go back to her rooms, to bed. Tried to get her to go about her business as usual. As if anything about this situation is normal. As if there has been a business as usual since she's been on the ground.

As if she'd leave Lexa's side when there is a distinct possibility that she could wake at any moment now that they've stopped drugging her to sleep.

The part of her, the stubborn part of her that won't give up, doesn't want to allow Lexa out of her sight ever again. Not after knowing the pain of losing her.

The utter soul-ripping pain.

She thought watching her father get floated was bad. And it was.

But the shock and surprise of this… of Lexa…

Right after they spent the afternoon twisted around each other in bed.

No. She won't leave.

Not even if Lexa tells her to.

She falls asleep just like she did the previous night. Holding Lexa's hand in her own and resting her head on Lexa's arm. It comes just as swiftly as it did before. Even with her nervous anxiety about the prospect of Lexa waking.

She fights it for as long as she can. The nightbloods curl up into their blankets on the floor for the night. Maryl completes whatever kind of routine she has around the small stock of medicinal supplies. Clarke's eyes drooping, heavy, with every moment as the crowd around them settles down.

The small box containing the Flame digs into her hip but she won't move it from her pocket. Hasn't let it go since it was handed to her. Shifts slightly to try to alleviate it and squeezes Lexa's hand in the process.

As she falls asleep she dreams that Lexa squeezes back.

 

Xx

 

"Clarke-" there's a slight cough that cuts off the sentence. The voice is quiet and cracked. It sounds old. "Clarke."

She hears the way her name is said, the specific strike of the k. She is fully awake in a second, her heart pumping itself out of her chest and adrenaline flowing through her like a wildfire.

Lexa smiles. "Clarke."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank Nachos and Mopey and KL for their support and guidance and extra eyes. They've listened to headcanons and whining for a while now, and I'm very, very grateful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! My gentle reminder that this fic does not shy away from the violence of 307 or the aftermath. Please proceed with caution and pay attention to the tags.

With a loud gasp, she wakes.

Pain floods her system, pulled her from the depths of sleep.

It's dark and cool. Damp.

She doesn't move.

Struggles to breathe. Her abdomen tight and rigid with pain. Her back sore and aching.

Her neck.

Her neck the worst of all.

Her vision clears. No longer blurry from the drugs or the pain or the trauma.

She doesn't immediately recognize where she is. Somewhere dark. Dank.

The pain dulls her mind. She can't think through the options. She doesn't know if she's safe.

Who could have moved her?

Soft candlelight fights the darkness of the area on a table equipped with a pitcher and a bowl of water. Towels.

There's a small, barely visible glow of embers in the corner where a fire has died down.

Just turning her head to view her surroundings better sends a sharp pain racing down between her shoulder blades and up into her skull.

She hisses. As much as she tries to fight it.

It's too hard. She slips again, into that ease of sleep that tugs at the wings of her vision.

It's easy. So easy.

 

Xx

 

She dreams. Heavy. Pulled under.

Memories from when she was young, training under Anya. The day she was pushed into the lake with her gear on. Trying to make it back to the surface to breathe. Anya's anxious face when she came up gasping. Not even masked by the cool demeanor Lexa was already familiar with.

Her chest feels heavy. Her heart sluggish. The way it was when she thought of Costia in the aftermath. How she felt broken then. Unreal.

And then with Anya. The loss unbearable. Clarke's blue eyes spitfires in the tent as she delivered the news. The look she gave Lexa as she handed over Anya's braid. How Lexa saw through it right then and there, not for the first time.

She can hear voices come in and out above her but can't answer them. Cool water drips down her throat. Soothing hands tend to her body. More tea that pulls her back under.

She dreams.

 

Xx

 

She registers some of what happens. She's not awake but she knows what's going on. Can hear snippets of conversation between Aden and Maryl. They talk of her wounds, how she's healing.

The gunshots that pierced her skin.

Titus, dead for his actions.

Titus.

She remembers odd pieces of it.

The betrayal stings. Spreads through her body.  _Clarke_.

They continue in pieces. Lexa can smell something cooking, her mouth waters even in the haze of whatever they've given her.

They speak of what's happening above ground. They never mention Clarke. Lexa's ears strain for it.

_Above ground_. She's hidden away in one of the secret places the  _fleimkepa_  keep until she is fully healed.

They talk over her and of her like she cannot hear. Or maybe they know she can and they carry on anyway knowing whatever brew they've given her will keep her in this stasis. This healing sleep.

She hears it all, but she cannot do a single thing. Can't think about what it all means, her mind feels too sluggish. Can't speak. Can't provide any answers.

Aden asks what will happen then. When she is healed.

There is no answer.

 

Xx

 

Maryl sits her up to drink. To check her mobility. To put her back to sleep. She wants to speak, to act, but it all feels like a dream. A trance. She hears what Maryl says. Follows the commands spoken softly, cleanly into her ear. Sinks back down to sleep when the exam is over.

She doesn't feel the urge to come out of whatever it is, to fight it off. Not yet. Her body is aching. Tender. Her movements, even slight, burn in her muscles. The loud noise of the shot echoes in her head but nothing else. Nothing else.

 

Xx

 

"You hid this from even me."

"Yes. It was required."

"I am her  _General_." Indra's voice is crisp at the edges. Indra. Finally. Lexa doesn't know how long she's been down here, how long she's been in this drugged state. Her abdomen feels better than it did. She cannot count the passage of time. Maryl could have had her up for water hundreds of times or maybe only a few.

There is no way to know until she's up for good.

A murmur slips through her own lips and the conversation stops. " _Heda._ " Indra's voice sounds desperate.

"She will not answer even if she's in a higher consciousness right now. The mixture we've given her will keep her there until it's time."

"Time for what? The time is now," Indra snaps.

"Has the fighting stopped?"

"You know it has, or you wouldn't have had me summoned."

"And what of  _Wanheda_?"

Lexa's heart stutters in her chest. Clarke…

"She is… surviving." Indra's weighted pause feels like a punch in the gut.

"Bring her here."

"She has been through enough shock for a lifetime in the last few days. That would be cruel, Maryl. We didn't raise you to be cruel."

"You didn't raise me." Maryl knew just where to strike. Perhaps they should have trained her as a warrior instead. "I need her.  _Heda_ needs her. Her skills alone-"

"Do not bring her here to use her. Not if Lexa will not wake up." Indra's voice is clipped.

She hasn't used Lexa's name more than a handful of times since she ascended. To hear it now, like this, feels odd.

Real.

"She will. She is almost there now, look."

Lexa's limbs are so heavy they do not move. Her mouth will not open to make sounds, but her eyes dance even while closed. The most she can do is murmur again. Breathe deeper.

"We need to remove her stitches, make sure her wounds have healed."

"And so you want me to bring you the Commander of Death? To barter and bargain? To ensure that  _Heda_  will live? She already believes her dead- we all believed her dead."

Dead. They think she's dead.

Of course they do. She can see flashes of it. Clarke's tears. Titus' fury.

Dead. She is a ghost.

No longer of this world, and yet. And yet. Still here. Still breathing.

" _Heda_ would want her here." Maryl's answer is simple. True. The end of it. "Tomorrow night. Please." The last word is soft. A proffered apology.

"As you wish."

Indra's solemn acceptance is almost too much for Lexa to bear. She allows the exhaustion to slip over her again, pulling her back into sleep. Into the other world where she lives yet doesn't.

If she's dead her wounds cannot hurt her anymore. Her broken heart cannot beat.

 

Xx

 

Each time Maryl pulls her from the slumber, it's easier to rise. She longs to fight off the effects of the healing brew but still cannot. It no longer pulls her down into a heavy sleep, though. It eases her passage.

She knows it will be soon. Once the stitches are out.

Clarke has not come yet.

Clarke does not know.

 

Xx

 

The scent of her lingers in the air.

Lexa's hand is warm, her palm sweaty.

She was here.

She is not any longer.

Aden and Maryl trade soft voices. Talk of  _Wanheda_. Of her spell.

Of her bitterness.

Lexa stays still, she doesn't want them to know how close to consciousness she is, not now. Not yet.

She wants to absorb everything she can.

Clarke passed out, thought they were all dead. The  _Natblida_ … There are only a few that remain, Lexa has gathered that much in her sleep-wake state.

She wouldn't leave Lexa's side until they forced her.

Didn't believe any of it to be real.

"Do you think it's wise, having her back so soon?" Aden sounds tentative as he broaches the subject. Maryl is young, but she is stern. Lexa had to stifle a laugh when she was first brought to Polis to train. So like her teacher; the same mouth set in a thin line, the same weighted gaze. She was only 7 at the time.

"It was unwise making her wait so long."

 

Xx

 

Something pulls her to from sleep, but it is not Maryl's warm touch on her shoulders. Or food cooking over the fire. Or Aden speaking to her in gentle tones.

Her hand is warm.

It all snaps together quickly then.

Clarke.

There is a lightness to Lexa that has not been present for ages. She no longer feels weighed down and drugged. Peacefully resting instead of sinking into a healing state. Her abdomen is tender, and so is her neck.

The skin can breathe.

Her wounds.

They must have pulled the stitches out. Lexa tugs at threads of previous conversations, stringing together what she can.

Something heavy rests on her arm and she wonders if Clarke has laid her head there. Touching as much as possible. The hand in her own squeezes and a sigh reaches her ears.

It takes her three tries but finally, finally her muscles behave.

She squeezes back.

 

Xx

 

The room around them settles down for the night. The talking stops and the heavy breathing start, the little snores that echo around the room at odd intervals.

Lexa is wide awake under it all.

Shaking off the last dregs of whatever flooded her system to allow her the time to heal. Clarke's hand never leaves hers. She squeezes it, more than once, it gets easier every time.

Clarke does not wake.

She wiggles her toes and stretches her calves. Her muscles burst with life. It will take a little while to get back to full strength that much she knows. Her body comes back into itself with every passing moment.

She longs to stretch, tall and wide.

Not yet, not yet.

Her stomach is no longer rigid. There is a tenderness that sits under the skin.

A bullet.

No Commander has survived a bullet before.

She takes a few deep breaths, her lungs filling with cool air. Holds them in and expels them in a slow manner. Expanding her lungs, her chest, her belly. In and out. In and out.

The fingers of her free hand twitch at her side. She stretches them out, grasping at air.

Her eyelids flutter open. She blinks a few times, clearing the sleep. Clearing the haze.

They adjust to the low light, the small fire bouncing off the roof.

She's always hated these places from Before. They feel wrong, outlandish.

Her neck is stiff but she is able to move it, to take in her surroundings. She's never seen this specific place before.

There's a noise at her side. Clarke mutters in her sleep, probably aware of Lexa's movements but not awake enough to comprehend them.

She smiles.

"Clarke-" she tries, her vocal cords dusty and unused. She coughs. Trying to clear them. The water is across the room. "Clarke." It comes out easier this time but her voice sounds odd to her own ears.

Clarke stirs, fully awake in an instant. Wide eyes full of disbelief.

"Clarke."

"Lexa-" Clarke's voice cracks and tears pool in her eyes. "Lexa," she whispers again, getting closer to Lexa's face, her eyes scanning endlessly. Roving over her body in the dim light. She paws at Lexa's stomach, her hands pulsating around the wound there.

Lexa hisses at the contact, a little too harsh for her.

"Shit, sorry. Sorry."

"Clarke," Lexa calls, quietly. Not wanting anyone else to wake, not yet. She just wants to look at Clarke. Tries to still Clarke's hands. "Clarke, please."

"Le-" A sob catches her off guard. She turns to Lexa, tears falling freely now. She doesn't speak again. Her head falls onto Lexa's chest, hot tears staining what's left of Lexa's shirt. Lexa holds her there, hand twisted in Clarke's hair. She sighs. keeps her breathing louder than normal for Clarke to hear, to recognize.

 

Xx

 

Lexa's shirt is soaked and Clarke's cries have quieted down. No one else in the darkened area moves, but Lexa wonders if they're not awake and just allowing for space.

She starts moving her hand along Clarke's back. Neither of them have spoken.

But Clarke laughs. Once.

Loud.

Harsh in the quiet.

It sounds mad.

Spirals quickly into a fit of tears and gasping. She sits up and looks at Lexa. Touching her cheek and hiccuping between shaky, stuttering breaths.

"Clarke?"

"I wish you were real. I wish you were real…" she mutters, stroking Lexa's face, scanning with her eyes.

"I am real."

Clarke jolts. Flinches. "I thought you were before, but you left me there. You left me and then when I woke up you were gone." The end of her sentence trails off. Holds so much unspoken pain Lexa cannot bear it. She rests her head on Lexa's chest again, ear over her heartbeat.

Lexa remains at a loss for words. Her brain is still fuzzy from her long sleep. Her lack of knowledge of the events that have come to pass since she's been here feels insurmountable.

But her heart aches when Clarke looks at her again as if she is dreaming.

"This might be the worst part," she whispers.

"Clarke?"

"I'll have you here in my arms for a while, start to believe it even though I don't want to…"

"You don't want to believe me to be alive?"

"Oh I do, I do. But it's not real. Nothing is real."

There is a shuffling then, off to the side. Maryl approaches quietly. Lexa nods her head and she steps up to the table. " _Heda_ , we have missed your presence."

Clarke looks at Maryl with wide eyes. She doesn't back down.

"We will need to assess you, now that you're with us."

"Of course," Lexa answers. Clarke still says nothing but looks back at Lexa's body. Her wound.

Lexa remembers that part. The wild look on Clarke's face as she tried, she tried.

" _Wanheda_ , please." Maryl gestures to the side of the table, the stool that sits there. Clarke sits. An odd stiltedness to her movements. She looks as if she might laugh again.

Maryl presses on Lexa's belly, checks her wounds. Makes her sit up. Her body creaks with it. She longs to stand up. Maryl moves around and does the same pressing and checking to the wound in her neck.

The sacred place.

What used to be.

The skin is more tender there, she hisses.

"The scar tissue was thick here, it will take longer to heal. I can add some salve."

Lexa nods her assent and feels a cool, thick coating soothe the tortured skin. She closes her eyes and takes a breath. It's the only sound in the dark space besides the quiet flickering of the fire.

"What's in that?" Clarke's question breaks through the space. Lexa's heart quickens.

"A mixture of herbs and plants." Is all Maryl says. Lexa believes if she listens closely enough, she'll be able to hear Clarke flex her hands in annoyance.

"It is past dawn,  _Wanheda_."

"Clarke." That familiar tone is back. If Lexa turns her head, she'll see the fire in Clarke's eyes. Lit and ready to spread. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You'll be missed, people will come looking for you."

"They'll survive," she offers harshly. Lexa feels a smile threaten her lips.

Maryl circles around her again, wiping her hands on a cloth. The way she appraises Lexa is so reminiscent of Indra scouting of the  _natblida._  The same eyes looking for the same things. "Would you like to stand?"

"Sha." Lexa's voice cracks, still tired and out of use. She inches herself to the edge of the table, ignoring the way her whole body is sore and screaming. It is the hardest thing she has done in a long spell. Her bare foot touches the cool ground and sends shivers up her skin. She shifts her weight and pulls herself off the table, legs shaking fiercely.

She sways, spreads her stance to stand stronger.

A hand grips her arm, steadying her. When she turns her head, it is Clarke's face that greets her. Brow worried and eyes dark. Her hand not moving.

They study each other until Clarke loosens her grip.

Lexa pulls herself up and takes in a full breath of air. It takes everything inside of her not to cringe, not to wince at the tenderness that spreads through her abdomen. She ignores it again, stretching fully.

There is a burning that spreads through her as she does it. It gives way to familiarity, warmth. Everything is waking up.

"How do you feel?" Clarke, speaking softly. As if Maryl and the others are not there. She notices them now, the  _natblida_ who blink up at her from their nests on the floor.

"Tired." And she is. So tired from merely waking.

She stretches again and Clarke still watches with disbelief. She can only imagine the pain that Clarke felt.

"How long?" She looks from Maryl to Clarke.

"Nine days," Maryl answers, stepping up to her and holding a change of clothes. The ones she is wearing have been ripped and torn away to expose her wounds. "Now that you are mobile, I'd like to get you into a healing bath."

Nine days. She's been dead for nine days. Clarke's disbelief is more real to her now.

It sits in her stomach like a pit of smoke and ash. Snippets of the whispered conversations above her ring through her memory. She has so many questions.

"Lexa," Clarke calls. Standing in front of her now. "Lexa." Eyes worrying over her face again. Lexa notices the dark circles, her wan pallor. Bruised and cut. She smells of sweat and dirt. Her hair is unclean again. She is so much like the wild girl Roan pulled from the woods.

Perhaps this is who she is now.

Lexa's hand moves on its own. She caresses Clarke's face, runs her thumb over her cheek. Needs to feel her. Clarke blinks her eyes closed and falls into it. The hand she rested on Lexa's wrist tightens for a breath.

When she opens her eyes again there are tears shining there. So blue.

"Let's get you in the bath," she whispers it.

Lexa allows Clarke to guide her down the tunnel and around a small bend. There is a large wash basin here. Maryl pours another bucket inside the basin, water steaming. "What is this place?"

Maryl dusts the water with dried herbs and petals. The small area fills with a comforting scent.

"A place known only to the  _fleimkepa_. Kept for instances such as these, for a wounded  _Heda_  to be treated in secrecy. In case of a coup or betrayal of those sworn to protect the  _Heda_." Her eyes are dark and serious when they look up from the water.

Lexa swallows down the stone that sits in her throat. The longer she is awake, the more it all comes back to her. Clarke is a steady presence beside her as Lexa peels her ripped shirt away and tosses it onto the fire. She undoes her pants and slides them down as far as she can before Maryl and Clarke both bend down to help her lift her feet from them. When Clarke looks up at her it is with haunted eyes.

She remembers.

She remembers the last time Clarke disrobed her. Although this time Clarke does not look at her with that primal hunger.

The pants go on the fire, too.

It takes Lexa a moment to maneuver herself into the basin but when she sinks inside her whole body relaxes. Whatever is in the water instantly relieves the aches.

Clarke sits on the edge of the wash basin with wide eyes. They're affixed to the wound on Lexa's stomach. She hands Lexa a folded cloth to help her wash, not meeting her eyes. Not looking at the rest of her naked body.

"Have you eaten?"

Clarke meets her eyes then, shakes her head. She looks defeated - a look Lexa has only seen a few times.

Maryl joins them again before Lexa can continue trying to calm whatever fears dance around Clarke's head.

" _Heda_ , you must soak and rest." Maryl pokes at her arm sternly and glares at Clarke. "Indra will be here soon, I've sent someone to fetch her."

Lexa doesn't take her eyes off of Clarke. She reaches out of the water and grabs the hand that sits on Clarke's thigh. Trying to prove her own existence. Clarke stares at it for a long while. So long, Lexa doesn't even dare to breathe. Clarke finally moves. Runs her finger along the drops of water that have collected on Lexa's skin. Relaxes enough to hold it there.

Lexa finally releases the breath she'd been holding in.

She longs to ask Clarke what happened. How life continued while she was underground. What events took place that turned Clarke into this shell that sits here, wild and uncertain about everything before her. How she could believe Lexa anything but real.

Not yet, not yet.

Lexa takes a better hold of Clarke's hand. Clarke's shoulders stiffen in their surprise.

"I should go-" Clarke stands abruptly. She looks skittish. Her eyes wild again and her face even paler. She drops Lexa's hand back into the water with a splash. "They'll be looking for me." It's an excuse and she doesn't meet Lexa's eyes as she says it.

"Clarke," Lexa whispers. A pain wrenches through her when she thinks of Clarke leaving. The last time she let Clarke out of her sight…

"I have to go." Clarke still doesn't look up. She spins on her heel and looks ready to march away, to let whatever fears have filled her carry her away. She does take a few steps but stops, heaving out a sigh. She stares up at the cold, black ceiling of the tunnel and mutters something under her breath that Lexa does not hear.

She slowly turns around, her eyes determined. Haunted.

Lexa doesn't say a word as Clarke wars with herself. Two steps, then another, and Clarke is back in her post on the edge of the basin. There is an apology in her eyes. Lexa does not reach out and touch her again, but she relaxes and sinks back into the soothing water.

Clarke watches in silence not letting Lexa out of her sight, even as she sometimes looks up to ask Maryl questions. Lexa is content.

 

Xx

 

"Clarke, it is time for us to return to the tower." Maryl broaches the subject with Clarke who bristles. Lexa is out of the bath and changing into some new clothes, exhausted and barely keeping her eyes open.

She cannot remember ever being this tired in all her years.

"I'm not leaving. I won't leave her."

" _Wanheda_ , your duties must be seen to. This was part of the arrangement we agreed upon."

"That was before she woke up."

"Clarke, I will still be here when you return," Lexa interrupts them quietly.

"I'm not taking that chance." She looks from Lexa to Maryl.

"If you do not report back with me, I will have the guards put you on lockdown." It's a real threat and Clarke's shoulders stiffen. She steps closer to Maryl and attempts to bully her. Maryl will not be moved.

"What do you even have to do in the tower anyway? I thought you were spending your time here caring for Lexa? If you're leaving, someone needs to stay with her."

"Clarke, I am fine. I will be here when you come back. I'd like to rest," Lexa tries again. Clarke's face softens when she turns to find her again.

" _Fleimkepa_  are necessary tools while  _Heda_  is away. Though I'm only an apprentice, there are things that must be seen to."

"Why is this the first I've heard of this?"

"Why do you think yourself privy to every detail? This does not concern you,  _Wanheda._  There are other things you must complete before dusk."

Clarke rolls her eyes and Lexa struggles to keep a straight face. Clarke's stubborn nature knows no bounds.

"Fine, but I'll be back as soon as I'm done," She says the last piece to Lexa, as if there was any doubt.

 

Xx

 

Indra has never been above showing emotion when the setting calls for it. Lexa has seen it, has experienced it when Anya died and mourned with her. Yet, she remains unprepared for Indra's reaction. Lexa is awake and seeking out some food when the sound of Indra's voice echoes off the walls. When Lexa returns to the main area to greet her general, she's pulled into a heavy hug.

She can't remember the last time she was hugged by anyone who isn't Clarke.

"Commander," Indra whispers. Grabs her shoulders and pulls back to look at her. Assess her. "You're alright?" There is a very noticeable gathering of tears in her eyes, but she fights them back.

"I am fine, Indra."

"I couldn't believe it to be true until I looked at you."

"Seems to be the theme today," she answers with a gentle smile, paying no mind to the two tears that escape and slide quickly down Indra's cheeks. Her heart warms just being in Indra's presence.

She has been one of the only advisors Lexa could trust fully. The only one still remaining since Anya.

"Well enough to tease. Maryl worked her magic." There is a pride that beams from her. Though Maryl was forced to forsake her loyalty to her family in order to train as a  _fleimkepa_ , to accept the honor of training, those familial bonds are still alive. Maryl stands off to the side, returned from her afternoon away and above ground.

"She performed her duties exceptionally."

"She was chosen wisely." Indra relaxes a bit. "Though she has still not told me the whole story of what happened." She glances at Lexa. "Have you been debriefed yet?"

"I have not." The  _natblida_  in the room perk up and share looks with each other. Aden leans over and says something under his breath to Maryl who studies Lexa.

"Would you like to wait for  _Wanheda_?" Aden asks gently.

"Can  _Wanheda_  hear everything you're about to tell me?" She's not surprised when Aden shakes his head. "Let's begin then, shall we?" She sits gingerly on one of the stools near the small fire that's lit and the  _natblida_  circle around her, just as they would in the throne room during their lessons.

Maryl hands Lexa a cup of steaming tea and a biscuit that is still warm from the tower kitchens before she sits near Indra on the last open stool. Lexa is surprised at how many comforts exist in this secret space. Surprised and yet not. The  _fleimkepa_  have been known to keep many secrets, this place would have been well stocked from its inception.

"I was finishing up some tasks Titus asked me to handle. He had been gone for most of the day- the only time I saw him was after your audience. He was upset. I was in the hallway when I heard the shots, but the guards locked me in the  _fleimkepa_  quarters." Her eyes dip to the floor briefly. "He came in carrying you. I'd never seen that look that he had. Wild."

She holds Lexa's gaze.

"He had been mad for days. I should have said something-"

"Maryl, it was not your place." Lexa interrupts her. She would never have gone against her teacher, Lexa knows that better than anyone.

"I followed him one day, to the Sanctuary. He had a Sky boy there tied up and beaten. He defiled it…" she stops, unable to continue. Lexa allows her the time to recover. Aden places his good hand on her back. She clears her throat and looks back at Lexa who gives an encouraging nod.

"He was distraught, dropped you on the table and told me to prepare your body. He did not see what I did- that you were alive. Breathing. He said he was sorry, so sorry, could barely look at you before he fled."

She looks at Indra, Aden. Indra's hands have turned to fists on her knees, her mouth a thin line. She wasn't in Polis, Lexa had sent her away. Needed her elsewhere dealing with the Sky People.

"I knew then what I had to do. You were in danger from those sworn to protect you. I asked the guards to bring any of the  _natblida_ they could find to me." She twists her hands in her lap. "I knew of the secret passageways that would get us out of the Tower, but you were still bleeding. Someone had done enough to stabilize you, but Titus was careless when he moved you."

It flashes through her memory. Clarke's hands moving quickly, her cries for help. The dirty Sky boy with her. Pain rears up in her stomach with the memories. She runs a hand over the wound, it comes away clean.

"The bullet?"

"I pulled it out before the  _natblida_ joined me. I had to drug you, you woke up yelling and fighting me. Do you remember that?" Lexa shakes her head and Maryl continues. "I stitched you quickly with whatever I had closest to me- your scar may heal unevenly." She looks almost apologetic in her admission. Lexa tilts her head, even in this Maryl is still pragmatic and clinical.

"She moved faster than I've seen any of the healers," Aden states, an odd look on his face. "We arrived as she stitched you, helped clean the wounds."

"Proper battle procedure?" She can't help quizzing them, even though this is the farthest thing from a lesson she could imagine.

"Yes. Clean and cover, assess in safety," He recites. "I wanted to move you, but Maryl told us to wait until nightfall. The Tower was on lockdown."

"Where would you have taken me?"

Aden doesn't have an answer for her, even though he knows of some of the safe houses that exist in and around Polis. His eyes fall to the floor and she drops it.

Maryl picks up the conversation instead. They are quite a team already. "We waited. Ontari provided enough distraction with her arrival for us to sneak away through the passages out of the  _fleimkepa_  quarters."

"But there was a body?"

"Yes,  _Heda._  I heard the horn and saw the smoke from outside the city." Indra speaks with the pain of realization.

"There we so many dead from the fighting...I knew Titus would never look. Not after his manner when he brought you to me."

"He died anyway." Aden's voice is fierce. "Maryl guided us here… we are the only  _natblida_  left…" his voice drops off and Lexa understands the acute, precise sting of that pain.

There are only seven here in this shelter with her.

"And the rest," she asks. Needs them to say it.

"Slaughtered,  _Heda_. By that  _neindropa_."

Silence fills the space around them. Covers them like a heavy hide or a thick fur.

"I mixed up the healing mud and applied it to your wounds as soon as we arrived. We had to leave you here to go back. Could not risk anyone finding out where we had gone." Maryl speaks deliberately, all action.

Smart. Very smart.

"We lied to everyone."

"I had no idea you were alive,  _Heda_ ," Indra cuts in. "I would have come to your aid sooner."

"It had to be this way," Maryl says. "No one could know."

"Not Indra, not  _Wanheda_. Not even after Titus died." Aden sounds slightly defeated.

"All threats had to be eliminated." Lexa understands. "You did well," she says with another gentle, approving smile. She owes them her life. " _Mochof_."

Maryl fidgets and Aden blushes. The other  _natblida_ , all ranging in age but most of them younger than Aden, smile up at her.

It's enough for now. A start. There will be more questions, more details needed. But, for now, the weight of it all settles on her.

Betrayal. Pain. Heartbreak.

It is heavy. So heavy.

 

Xx

 

"You overheard us talking while you slept." It is not a question, but a statement. Lexa's fondness for Maryl grows daily even as she pokes again at Lexa's wounds and adds more of the salve.

"Yes," she answers plainly. Sees Maryl nod out of the corner of her eye. There is a pleased look on her face.

"I hoped you might. Gave you time to hear it and understand it all before waking."

"Yes."

Lexa can offer no more, all of it still working its way through her brain. Her thoughts are quiet- only her own. She never thought she'd miss the voices of the old Commanders. Begged for release from the noise, from the extraneous thoughts that flew through her mind with any given decision before she learned how to tune them out.

How to focus. To lead the way she wanted to.

Miss them she does. They are but phantoms in her mind now. She can almost hear what they'd say. How they'd remind her of Titus' failings even before this. How he was ill-suited to train as a  _fleimkepa_ and should never have been chosen.

The  _Heda_  had no choice at the time - a mysterious illness befell the small group of trainees and the Master  _Fleimkepa_. Titus was the only survivor. Away from the group for punitive reasons.

Titus who was the weakest link.

The one who nearly destroyed everything.

"You have more questions." Another statement.

"Yes." She turns and addresses Maryl now. "I'd like to wait."

"Whenever you're ready,  _Heda_."

Maryl turns to go but she stops when Lexa calls her. "How did you know I'd want to see Clarke?"

There's a calmness to her when she turns around. A quiet gentleness Lexa has come to understand. "You. You asked for her, called me her when I moved you and woke you to check on your vitals. Murmured her name in your fits."

Lexa swallows heavily, her ears blushing. Maryl offers a gentle smile and leaves Lexa to her thoughts.

"You did well. In all forms, Maryl."

 

Xx

 

Clarke comes down again later after they eat a meal at what Lexa assumes is dusk - she still has not been outside, has not breathed in fresh air. Indra is still with them, talking to the  _natblida_ and filling Lexa in on all that still happens above ground.

Clarke comes back with that same look on her face. The one of barely veiled hope, mixed with fear. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen, her nose is red. She still looks on the verge of more tears but she's fighting it. Clarke is never one to show that particular weakness easily even if she cannot hide the aftermath written all over her face.

She stands with her hands at her sides, her eyes roaming around the group. They never stop, and her hands flex subtly when they land on Maryl who made it back before she did.

"Would you like something to eat?" Lexa is the only one who dares to speak to her. Everyone else seems to regard her with cool indifference. They know she is there, why she is there. The  _why_  is what holds all of their tongues. Indra's eyes never leave Clarke from the second she appears.

"Uh-" She pauses, taken aback by the ordinary ask. "No, I-I ate in the tower."

Lexa moves over on the fallen tree that was dragged down to the bunker for seating. Clarke's eyes find the vacancy, but she doesn't move.

"So, you can sit?" Bitter. Rough.

Clarke.

Maryl eyes Clarke, too. Looks ready to speak if Lexa doesn't.

"I am fine, Clarke, as I told you I would be." The name leaves her lips as easy as it always did. Clarke's eyes flash to hers, her shoulders stiffen.

"I'd like to check for myself and see how your wounds have progressed." It comes out gruff, like so many of Clarke's demands always have. Her throat bobs, as if swallowing words unsaid.

"You trusted Maryl thus far," Lexa says.

"I need to see," she answers, her voice breaking and her hands balled up. She stomps around the corner where the wash basin resides, her back straight and her gait heavy.

When Lexa joins her, Clarke moves immediately. Grabbing at her shirt and rolling it up without permission while pawing at the pale bruise that sits against Lexa's skin, the jagged scar that has puffed up while healing. She drags Lexa closer to the fire, to the light, to inspect it. Lexa allows it, will withstand anything she has to in order to see that look Clarke carries around on her disappear.

"We only pulled your stitches out yesterday… I don't even see entry points." That disbelief is back, this time tinged with something akin to awe.

"Nightblood."

Clarke drops to her knees and pokes and prods Lexa's body. It does something to her that it shouldn't. "It just… there's no way. There's no way you should be this advanced." Her voice is high pitched and her brow is furrowed. As if she is looking for any reason, any at all, to not believe what remains true before her eyes.

Her frantic hands don't stop, don't still. Lexa grabs them. "Clarke," she calls softly, but that makes it no less a command. She sees the tears then, the ones that slip gently out of Clarke's eyes and down her cheeks. "Clarke, I am healing."

Clarke rests her forehead against Lexa's bare torso and cries. The tears paint Lexa's skin. She lets go of Clarke's hands and folds her arms around her head, embracing her as best she can. Clarke's breath is humid, shaky. Her own emotion rolls up in waves and threatens to overcome her, but she swallows it.

"You shouldn't be here, you shouldn't. It's not real… it's not real."

"No, I shouldn't. But I am."

"I love you." Clarke doesn't look up as she says it. Her forehead, her mouth, still resting against Lexa. "I love you." It's clearer the second time, her eyes intense and focused on Lexa's as she tilts her head up. Tears drying on her face and her hair a mess. Like she can't not say it. Like it is practically going to burst out of her. Like she needs Lexa to hear it, memorize it.

Like she is afraid she may never get another chance again.

The emotion does take Lexa then. She loses her breath and her heartbeat is the only thing she can hear flooding through her ears. A burst of warmth takes her over so suddenly, so quickly, she gasps.

It was all right there for her. All right there for her to reach out and take it. But, she didn't. Too afraid to be selfish. Too smart to be selfish. The words choked back in her throat, but the emotion, the feeling, all of it went into Clarke anyway.

She never thought she'd get this moment back. Never expected Clarke to be circled in her arms after that day. Hoped they'd see each other again but...

"I love you."

It comes out without thought. Her mouth moves on its own, revealing the depth of her feelings. Her heart. It was already there, barely swallowed down on that sunny afternoon. On the tip of her tongue for so long. It wasn't time then. It wasn't her time.

But, she can be selfish now. She can want this. Openly.

She has already paid the price. She owes no more to anyone else.

Clarke's face when she hears the words, when they settle inside of her, takes Lexa's breath away again.

It is everything she has longed for.

Pure. Wanting. Hers.

She can say the words now, let them breathe. The ones she regretted not saying as soon as the moment passed.

Regret that no longer matters.

 

Xx

 

Maryl makes Clarke some soothing tea and she relaxes, not fully, not completely, but enough for Lexa. She no longer looks as if she's about to crawl out of her skin or jump up and run away again.

This is how Indra finds them, sitting together in silence. Their thighs touching but nothing else. They've barely spoken. Not since those admissions.

"Commander, we must discuss what happens now."

"It can wait, Indra." She has barely understood all that happened after the assassination attempt. Her place here in this bunker- with her  _fleimkepa_  in training and the only surviving  _natblida_. And Clarke.

Even here underground she cannot escape duty. Cannot have space to think.

It's harder now, her head is still foggy and her thoughts are only her own. She hasn't worked out how to react, to act, to plan without the Flame. Never thought she'd have to.

Indra doesn't move, doesn't relax. "Your people have waited long enough,  _Heda_."

There it is. The call.

"I am no longer  _Heda_."

It leaves her lips easily. So easily. What is the only truth she's known since she was aware, if not still asleep under Maryl's brew. She's had days to come to terms with it. Has turned it around in the back of her mind. In that empty space that now sits there- no longer buzzing with anything, anyone, else.

Clarke jolts up. Indra's jaw tightens. "I no longer carry the Flame. I am no longer  _Heda_. A new one must be chosen." Lexa moves her thigh away from Clarke's, sits up to look at Indra more intently. It's easier now to say it. Speak it out loud again.

"Lexa- that's insane!"

" _Heda, yu kikon_ -"

Indra and Clarke speak over each other but Lexa stands and ignores them. Indra stops as soon as she does it, but Clarke keeps spitting her words out. Her eyes like ice again.

So quickly they turn.

"I've heard enough. I'll speak no more of this."

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Maryl and Aden watching her with wide eyes.

Trepidation.

 

Xx

 

She knows Clarke will follow. Expects her to. Enough of their arguments replaying in her mind already. Clarke never lets it rest. Always wants the last word.

Her heavy footfalls in the long tunnel behind Lexa do not surprise her.

What does surprise her are the second pair.

A hand reaches out and grabs Lexa, bodily turning her around. Lexa allows it, seeing Indra's amused expression as she does. Clarke lets go of her arm, not even bothering to look sheepish about it. She never could bring herself to afford Lexa the respect her mantle deserved.

Clarke does what she wants. "Lexa, you are still the commander." She sees her opening and takes it.

"I am not. A conclave was held and a new one was chosen. A new one will be chosen again. That is how it has always been."

"Ontari wasn't chosen, she rigged the game. You and the nightbloods are  _here_ \- you're safe and alive, no one needs to know anything else." She looks almost desperate as she speaks. Indra watches with that look.

Always that look.

"Clarke, my people have mourned for me. They believe yours guilty."

"They don't- we fixed it. Me and Roan, Indra…." She looks off to the side, to Indra. "No one knows what happened. No one thinks… No one- Fuck, no one knows what happened to you!  _How_  you died. Just that you did."

"Are you telling me not one person, not  _one_  of my guards, believes the  _skaikru_  guilty? After all that has happened? My people do not use guns, Clarke." She cannot control the way her voice shakes and rattles, heightens in intensity. The truth of it is so plain, how can Clarke ignore it?

"Even if they did, they no longer do. So much has happened even in a few days. Too much, it all spiraled out of control so quickly. Chaos… it was chaos."

"My people-"

"Were under the influence of something- they were in a trance. Most of them don't remember anything after they took what Jaha was offering." Clarke cuts her off and barrels forward, needing Lexa to understand this. To understand just a little bit of this. "Not anything that happened in the real world, at least."

"But some do."

"And those are the ones who will welcome you. The ones who mourned for you. They need you,  _we_  need you Lexa. You're alive and we have the Flame. You are  _Heda_."

"I failed them." It's the truth, plain and simple. Lexa failed. She died for it.

"No, you didn't. Titus failed them. Ontari failed them. Nia failed them." She looks away for a moment. "The sky people... we almost ruined it, we did. We did ruin it. But our people need you to lead. To bring them back. The coalition still stands, but it won't hold forever. I've done what I can, I've done everything I could but..." She stops and looks up at Lexa, a silent plea held there in her eyes.

"Our people," Lexa notes.

"Yes, our people."

Indra steps closer to them then. "We need to assemble the leaders of the coalition. Have a summit"

Clarke turns her attention away from Lexa, away from the space they shared. The hands she seemed about to reach out and grab Lexa's with fall away. The moment gone. "No we should do it publicly- no one will believe the gossip."

"If we do it publicly we won't get anything done-" Indra shakes her head. "She needs to speak to her ambassadors first so they know."

"And then what? Meetings all day?  _Heda_ needs to be with her people."

" _Heda_  needs to begin to clean up this mess."

"Enough," Lexa says quietly. Tired of their bickering, the scar tissue at the back of her neck zinging with pain. The decision has been made for her though she has not yet agreed to anything.

"Lexa, we need to figure this out! You can't sit down here forever hiding and moping." Clarke shares a look with Indra. Lexa doesn't know if she likes it or not.

" _Heda_ , she's right. The people have been devastated by that attack. Villages destroyed. Polis and the Tower were damaged.  _Wanheda_  does what she can-"

There. That again. "What do you mean?"

For her sake, Indra never falters even as Lexa crosses her arms behind her back and works it all out in her head. "The people have looked to  _Wanheda_. She defeated the threat, they trust her now. She woke them up from war." She answers Lexa quietly.

"Not all of them trust me," Clarke scoffs. "Some of them are angry with me for destroying the City of Light and bringing back their pain."

"You gave them their freedom back. Their free will," Indra says.

"They don't see it like that."

"We will make them see it." Indra stays resolute.

"I hope so. I'm tired of having a fucking bounty on my head. No matter where I go or what I do, it's never enough for everyone."

"You are the Commander of Death- the people know this."

"I can't actually summon Death on his horse to take out whoever makes me mad now, can I?"

"Myth is strong. Just ask  _Heda_."

They turn and look at Lexa as if they've just remembered that she's there. Suddenly, all at once, Lexa can see how the past few days have gone.

It hasn't even been that long.

Titus always warned that Clarke represented the only true challenge to her power. Would eclipse her if Lexa didn't act. Put Clarke and the  _Skaikru_ in their place.

Would eclipse her if Lexa kept making allowances.

She almost laughs at the memory.

Fuck him.

He robbed her of revenge. Punishment. The announcement of treason and what happens to those that cross  _Heda._  Public execution to announce her return would have made a bold statement. Would have pulled the dissidents back in line. The  _Skaikru_.

They don't need her. They have  _Wanheda_  now.

"There are people who need help, Lexa. We need to rebuild villages, homes. Trust." Clarke breaks through her bitter thoughts.

Something else stands out from what they said. Lexa can almost grab it, but "What was that word… trance?"

"They were like  _ripas_ ,  _Heda_. Only, controlled. Civilized. Only crazed when told to be, but worse. There was no distinguishing them from anyone else until they turned."

A fire starts low in her belly- someone, something, was taking hold of her people. Unseen. Unknown. The mountain was destroyed… blown up. It couldn't have been anything from inside that hell. "What made them turn? We destroyed the Red."

"Jaha. He had these…" Clarke struggles for a moment, "offerings. If the people ate what he was giving them, they could be controlled."

"By him?"

"By him and by Alie." Her brow furrows. "Don't you remember what they were like? It was the same here as it was in the City."

"In what city?"

Clarke blanches, "The City of Light? You remember… you were there with me."

Lexa can see the moment something breaks inside of Clarke. So clearly it stings her own heart. "No, Clarke." She says it as gently as she can, cradling the name the way she always has. "I was here. I was healing."

"No, no… Lexa… don't you remember? You were there, you saved me from those attackers. You helped me find the switch to turn it off and then- then you…" It's uncharacteristic for Clarke to stumble over her words. Lexa steps closer. "The mob found us and you ran into to it as a distraction so I could pull the switch."

Lexa shakes her head, eyes Indra for a second, and inches even closer to Clarke. "Clarke, I do not know what you're saying. I have been here since that day you were supposed to leave and cross the barricade. I haven't been in any cities."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to thank Jenna and Mopey for kicking my ass on this chapter and helping me dig deep. They are wonderful and I am grateful to have the friends that I do.


	3. Chapter 3

The knock on her door comes at no surprise. They at least gave her a few hours to settle, to think.

To wake up.

She turned on her heel and left Lexa and Indra behind with questions unasked on quiet tongues and furrowed brows. She ignored Lexa's worried eyes as much as possible.

Picking her way through the tunnels and back up to her room with a quick pace, pinching herself the whole way. Thighs, hands, arms. Anything.

There was pain in the City of Light, too. She felt those punches and kicks. She felt Lexa's skin then. Real and solid. Lexa's lips on hers. Lexa's tears.

But no matter what she does now, how hard she tries, she cannot wake up.

Lexa was there… she was. Clarke is sure of it.

Except she was  _here_ , under Maryl's steady care and watchful eye. Asleep and healing while the world around her fell apart.

It's almost like the old fairy tales that were stored on the ark. Dark and twisted. She was in the place that took away troubles, burdens. Brought dreams to life.

Brought Lexa to life, there for her to see and touch. But not to keep.

All Clarke wants to do is keep her. It's the only thing she seems incapable of doing. In any life.

She quakes with it if she lets herself think about it for longer than a fleeting second.

It's all a mess. It's a fucking mess. She needs to sleep but she's not sure she wants to anymore. What if this life all goes away as soon as she shuts her eyes? What if Lexa goes away? Again.

Again, again, again.

At least she made it back to the room before she had another breakdown. It seems to be a daily occurrence now. Her eyes sting constantly and her throat is almost raw at this point. She hasn't been able to stop them from overcoming her. Dragging her down and making her  _feel_  everything she's tried to ignore for months. Years, really.

Her father. Wells. Finn.

 _Lexa_.

Lexa, Lexa, Lexa.

It reverberates through her body. That name that seemed to plant itself inside of Clarke somewhere deep and dark and hidden away, only to blossom over time and become so much of her.

So, she tries to ignore the sobs that build in her throat, the hiccups that will come, the ragged breathing that won't settle again for an hour.

It's a fool's errand. It always is.

The knock sounds again. Clarke wipes her face and tries to steady her shaky breathing as she opens the door herself, ignoring the guards still posted outside her quarters just like they used to post up outside of Lexa's.

It's unnerving.

She's ready to unleash some of the storm inside of her onto whichever one of the attendants or guards or advisors stands on the other side of the door when she catches sight of who really knocked. Maryl walks in quietly, her hands folded in front of her. She doesn't stop until she's as far away from the doors as possible, if only for the illusion of privacy of whatever message she has come to deliver.

Clarke rounds on her, her body blazing with emotions she hasn't even coded yet. A white-hot flare. "This is all  _your_ fault! You should have told us she was alive! Now look at her, she doesn't even know who she is," she hisses. Her grief transforms into this like a flash of lightning.

Lexa turned and walked away.

After all of that.

All of  _this._

Should have known, Clarke thinks bitterly. Lexa has always been so good at walking away. Walking away and leaving Clarke to fend for herself while the world around her falls apart.

"My duty is to the Flame and to the Flame alone."

"The Flame is in a box in my fucking  _pocket_!" Clarke growls, rushing closer to Maryl in her fury. The other girl doesn't even flinch.

"Lexa will be the Flame as long as she lives." She sounds tired, unwilling to even meet Clarke's rage with anything other than calmness. Maryl hardly reacts to the misplaced anger Clarke throws at her.

What the fuck is it with these grounders?

"Yeah, well, tell  _her_ that." Clarke grabs the small metal box out of her pocket and throws it at Maryl's feet. She protected it, cared for it. All she had left of Lexa.

Now Lexa is walking and talking and Clarke almost believes it.

Almost.

If not for the sheer audacity of her choice.

To walk away from her duty.

The Lexa she knew would  _never_.

She walked away from Clarke. From an agreement. From a battle. But all  _because_  of duty.

But, hey, at least Clarke's confession can go forgotten now. If this is all some sick, twisted place her mind has decided to create, her heart's spoken word will be nothing.

" _Wanheda_ , I have afforded you more leniency than most, but you must remember your place." Maryl scoops up the small tin from the floor and slides it open. The Flame resides inside just where Clarke left it. Tucked away and safe from harm.

She hasn't even looked at it in days, preoccupied with Lexa in reality. It seems strange now. As if that was another life. Those days in between weren't real. An elaborate dream.

But, isn't  _this_  the dream? Where Lexa is alive?

"Thank you for guarding this," Maryl says. "It is sacred."

The anger dissipates as quickly as it came.

"I know." Maryl tucks the tin into her apron, patting it once it's there. "It was all I had. There was no way I'd let anything happen to it." Or let anyone unworthy take it.

Destruction. So much destruction. It seems to follow wherever she goes. Commander of Death.

The large room suddenly feels so small, as if it's collapsed. Shrunken just around the two of them standing here.

"I grieved for her. I felt that pain shatter so deeply inside of myself I knew I would never be the same," she says quietly, her eyes focused out the window. There's a bird out there circling and circling, drifting on the wind. Carefree. "I thought I felt that pain before- and maybe I have- but this…"

It's been so long since she's felt carefree. Maybe she never has.

"She needs time," Maryl interrupts the nightmares that follow Clarke around wherever she goes. Death. So much death.

"She's had it. The people need a leader- I can't. They're… everything is barely. It's all-"

It's all what? Falling apart? Returning to the way it was before a teenage warlord pulled the clans together by the skin of her teeth and her own iron will?

It's not. Not really. It feels almost as if a pause button has been hit within the city. Life has slowed down immeasurably since Clarke first got here. She thought it was just her getting used to it, but… even the tower is quieter.

There is a distinct air of mourning that blankets the city and the people.

Their  _Heda_ is gone. Dead. The usurper is too.

No one seems to know what comes next.

And yet, every time she turns around someone else needs something from her. Or an answer. Or a decision. Or help. She is not in charge. Except she is the only one here and everyone around the tower recognizes the power of  _Wanheda._

The myth. Her new identity.

She will probably never shake it.

"She is still the Commander. She will always be the Commander, even in death."

"Yeah, guess it's a good thing I can tell Death to do what I want." She turns away from the window then and makes for the small bottle of mead that was placed in her room with one of her meals. She's not sure which, but she's grateful for the alcohol now. The mead in the tower is sweet and sunny. It tastes like earth. The earth of dreams and fantasies. The place Clarke longed for for so long in that metal box.

"I came to you for your help. This has never happened before- we have no history to lead us through this."

"Through what?"

"A  _Heda_  surviving."

"Oh," Clarke stops in her tracks. "But you've had commanders who've been wounded before, right?"

"Yes, but none who have died. Or,  _not_  died." Maryl skews her face up. "Lexa-" she slides the tin open and studies the chip again. "Lexa no longer carries the Flame but she is alive, she is  _Heda_ , but our traditions were carried out in her absence, she does not believe it to be right. A commander is chosen and serves until they die and the Flame is removed."

"Except a new commander was never chosen. Not rightfully, by your tradition."

"She does not believe that to be true."

"Of course she doesn't, stubborn is a fucking understatement when it comes to her. Which is why I'm angry that you let her sit down there so long in limbo like that." She takes a long swig of the mead, it coats her tongue. Brings brightness into the dreary day.

"There was no other choice. My duty is to protect-"

"Protect the Flame above all else, yeah yeah you've said." Clarke cuts her off and Maryl's eyes sharpen.

Clarke gives it up. "You kept her alive, we all owe you for that."

"It was my duty. I am owed nothing."

Clarke meets her eyes. "Still."

Maryl nods in acquiescence. She had a duty to save Lexa, but she didn't have any reason to tell Clarke except for what has since become increasingly obvious to all those involved. Her heart thumps heavily in her chest. There's an ache for Lexa. It's been there since even before that day they finally gave in. It grew larger when she was lost, and now it rattles inside Clarke. Reminding her. Haunting her. Living in the spaces between her fingers, behind her ears, in her knees, her cheeks. In the space Lexa carved herself inside of, slowly, day by day, and yet so quickly it happened in the blink of an eye. Right inside her chest, in a place Clarke could no longer ignore or shut down no matter how hard she tried.

Maryl waits patiently as Clarke wars with herself.

"Why did you say you're only an apprentice down there with Lexa?"

"Because it is true.  _Fleimkepa_ are expected to maintain the peace while  _Heda_  is away and work with the generals and ambassadors if need arises. I have been given some of those duties but not all. I have not finished my training, I am still young and green in the eyes of the people. I need to be proven capable." Clarke has seen her during these past few days, flitting around the tower and speaking in low hushed tones with faces Clarke recognized as belonging to Lexa's inner circle.

"Yeah, well, not for long." They share a conspiratorial smile. "So, what's the plan?"

"How did you get the Flame from Ontari?" Maryl's question is nothing more than curiosity, perhaps slightly testing how much of the culture Clarke was able to pick up from her time on the ground, around Lexa. Clarke freezes. It is in her pause that Maryl works out the answer. Clarke can only dream of being that clever at so young an age. "She never had it."

"No," Clarke says with a gentle anger. "Titus gave it to me for safekeeping- wanted me to find Luna and the Flokru. Said it was the only way, that she would be the only one we could trust with the Flame. I thought she'd protect Lexa's legacy." Clarke almost chokes on the last word.

"Luna was a strong candidate."

Clarke nods. "I suppose, but she didn't want anything to do with me."

"So you came back to the place you were sent away from with the thing that was sought the most?" There's nothing to be missed in her tone.

"What was I supposed to do? I had no other choice."

"Ontari had  _ascended_."

"Yes," Clarke sighs. It feels like forever ago and it hasn't even been that long. Her life on the ground has been more chaos than peace.

The only peace she's been able to find was with the person miles underground.

"Roan asked me for the Flame but I refused. That's when all the shit started and there was no time."

Maryl doesn't react to that at all. Clarke wonders what would even begin to faze this young healer. If anything on this earth would shake her, put a crack in that calm facade. " _Heda_ needs to know this," she says quietly, looking out the window now. "We need to tell her."

"Yeah, she's not going to react that great." The mead is almost gone now. Clarke will have to ask for more, they'll bring her anything she likes. Anything she can imagine within their power.

"No, she is not. But she must know that her choice has been made with the wrong information."

"How should we tell her?"

 

Xx

 

"Yo, where are you going in such a fucking hurry?" Raven is halfway up the hallway towards Clarke's room when she stops on her crutches. Her whole body deflates and Clarke can almost feel the exhaustion that seeps off of her from ten feet away.

"Since when do I answer to you?" Clarke lobs back.

"Fair point," Raven says, tilting her head. "For real, though… you've been like, not with it for a couple days."

"I'm fine, Raven. Just busy." Clarke is currently itching to get back down the bunker and talk some sense into Lexa- no matter how long it takes. She's done it before, she'll do it again. Maryl left her room hours ago and Clarke had to busy herself until dusk.

"Bullshit." Raven leans against the wall a little bit to steady herself. "We were trapped in that metal box way too long for me not to be able to read every line on that face, Griffin."

"Listen to me,  _this_? None of your concern. Did you come up here to interrogate me or did you have something you needed to share?" Clarke doesn't mean for it to come out as biting as it does, but she's tired and preparing herself for the fight she knows she's about to have with Lexa. The fight that she might, that they might, never come back from.

Raven's head bobs and her eyes harden. "You know what… nope. Have a good night, asshole." Raven mutters the last part under her breath, but Clarke hears it anyway. Was probably meant to.

A pang of guilt and remorse flickers through Clarke, threatening to harden in her stomach. She spins around and takes the long way down through the tower, not interested in watching Raven swing her way through the hall on her crutches, the pain back for her and deeper than before. The quiet, repressed rage.

Not interested in opening up old wounds again or deepening the hole she's already in.

She's ignored everything personal in her life since Lexa woke up. Overwhelmed and terrified. There isn't room for anything else, not right now. Not with that and the duties that have been unceremoniously and unexpectedly dumped in her lap.

Clarke can't even remember the last time she slept for a full, restful, even  _decent_ amount of time. Every time she thinks she might be able to put her personal demons to the side, inevitably a quiet yet insistent tap will knock on the door giving her about thirty seconds to wake up enough to register the demand being placed upon her. She's dragged herself up and out the door more times than she can count at this point. Even if she couldn't actually sleep- the rest would be nice. The giant bed in her room with the fancy furs is criminally underused at this point. It's a shame, too. The beds in this part of the tower are finer than Clarke ever thought possible.

Her feet surprise her and take her around the back exit of the tower and out onto the streets. She follows a winding, familiar path to the city center. A light snow begins, large flakes floating down so softly it looks fake. Like a dream. There are still some shops unaffected by the chaotic fighting and madness, and plenty more that were hit but still remain open. Stalls and merchants have been out here every day since the people woke up, trying to bring back any normalcy into the days now.

Clarke supposes it's just what you do. Keep on.

There is something steady about how a new dawn rises and with it come the same things that came before, even amidst upheaval and rebuilding. If she's being honest, a lot of Polis looks like it did when she first saw it before anything broke out. Pieces of the city were already crumbling, shadows of what they were in the Before. Structures look no worse for wear, generally, even if there are new holes or new bricks missing in some. It is more the people, the supplies, that were ravaged.

The buildings closest to the tower tell another story.

There are bits of small talk she gets pulled into, wares and food she's offered freely. The people here seem grateful… or just respect the odd position she's in. She hasn't been able to tell and it takes too much brain power to work through. They play their parts well. That's all Clarke needs to know.

There is a guard following Clarke as she wades through the city and takes more mental notes. He keeps a safe distance, though she can feel his hulking frame behind her. A sense she's being watched- something she gained in the woods that has helped her immeasurably ever since. She hates that he follows. It feels foreign and unnecessary. Should be utilized for someone other than herself, she doesn't deserve this layer of protection.

She is not that person.

Her eyes roam over Polis and all that she can see in the quickly fading light. More information to take back to the person who does need a guard, who does deserve the security. Not for the physical danger, but for the prestige.

Who should be here now.

It overwhelms her- how frustrated she is with Lexa. How quickly she'd forgotten the stubbornness that winds through Lexa, and how easily it gets under her skin. Lexa is the one who should be here surveying the damage. Accepting polite nods and smiles from her people even if they come with somber eyes and tired sighs.

Lexa should be the one helping them heal.

Providing the light for them all to follow to the end of the tunnel. This is not Clarke's job. And it's not what she's good at. She's tired, so tired.

The funeral pyre is almost finished. Set in the same square where she watched an angry mob pull Roan away from her. It's larger than she's ever seen… something entirely unsettling. It looks like a stage.

"The crew will be finished very soon,  _Wanheda_." Her guard says quietly.

"Tell me your name again?" She asks gently.

"Luka." He's probably told her more than once before, but he offers her a small smile and a nod. Clarke vows not to forget it from this moment on.

"How many did you lose, Luka?"

"My brother. My father. I haven't seen them since I began working in the tower- it is forbidden. We must renounce our families to serve the  _Heda._  But, I heard the news. We always hear the news. The bad quicker than the good."

She nods slowly. "I'm sorry for your loss." The sacrifice he bears almost seems unnecessary. She remembers how Indra spoke of Maryl. Serving at the behest of  _Heda_ is the highest honor. Even if those chosen do so freely, with full hearts, how can there not be another way?

She slows to a stop just in front of the old building that has become Abby's makeshift medical ward. Hulking pieces of the Ark have been brought here and look out of place and yet, like in another life they fit right in. Those machines would hum to life on the Ark. Soothing and gentle sounds of their reality in space that Clarke has almost forgotten.

Abby moves calmly and efficiently between beds. Clarke spies through a large broken window at the front of the building. Raven has taken to sitting on a desk in the back, swinging her good leg and looking sullen.

That pang of guilt intensifies in Clarke's gut, but she has more important things to attend to, shuffling away from the clinic before she can be seen. She owes Raven an apology… an olive branch at least. A…  _something_. She can tell Raven is trying.

That's the thing between them - they are always trying.

It might not ever work, but with so many people lost since they landed, the trying is what's important. Keeping people close.

Raven is brilliant and useful. Someone good to have on her side for when shit goes sideways. Someone good to have even when it doesn't. Clarke needs all the help she can get, always. She's just…  _tired._

The trying will have to wait for another day. She has bigger fish to fry tonight and soon. Based on past experience, Raven won't want to talk to her anytime soon no matter how much Clarke grovels.

Pain and exhaustion distort the features of those visible through the broken windows, bodies writhe and moans sound out. Her mother wears a mask of patience Clarke saw only a few times for herself, but often enough within the hospital setting on the Ark. She speaks with the other healers who flit between makeshift cots and beds.

There was pain when Clarke was in the City of Light. It's a mantra she's repeated since Lexa came back. Over and over, trying to find solid ground. There was pain in there. Clarke felt it. Physically, mentally. Her heart broke inside of her chest into pieces she is not sure will ever quite fit together again.

But it was nothing like this.

This is a reality Clarke was almost not expecting.

The wind picks up again and slices through the layers Clarke wrapped around herself. Bitter and frigid in a way she never imagined it would be. It shakes her. Wakes her up. It is almost hard to breathe in it's so cold and it chills her throat and breath.

It steadies her. She opens her mouth and takes in as big a breath as she can. Closes her eyes so the sensations are full. It tightens her muscles. Seizes in her lungs. Pulls tears from her eyes.

A chill that carries through her bones.

It is the dark void of space but alive and blowing and angry.

When she opens her eyes and finds Raven again her face has darkened and she rubs her hip. It's not fair. None of it is fair. This is what destroying that place has done- slammed people back into broken bodies and minds. They all have a right to hate her for it.

They will never understand that this piece of her victory is not what she wanted.

She leaves it there and walks away. Let them hate me, she thinks, I can handle it.

I have before.

 

Xx

 

On her way back to the tower, something catches her eye at the front gates. Octavia astride a giant black horse looking like she was born in the wilderness. Clarke closes her eyes and remembers her days in the woods. Living off the land, hunting, making her way. Learning. She misses it. More than she thought she would.

Movement behind Octavia reveals Lincoln. His broad frame belied by his gentle face, soft eyes. He carries two packs and looks nervous.

With Lexa dead to everyone above ground, Lincoln's banishment no longer exists.

He can come home.

Octavia catches Clarke's eyes as she passes through the gate. They move swiftly to the guard that follows her and back again- a question and an answer there on her face for Clarke to read. Clarke shrugs and continues on her way, back to the tower.

Back to the secret passageway that will take her to Lexa.

She's got work to do.

 

Xx

 

The argument she's been building in her mind on her way through the tunnels is broken up by stilted voices. Indra's voice carries up the tunnel farther than Clarke would like it to. It doesn't seem safe, but then again, what has? She had hoped Indra would have waited for her to arrive, for backup.

For a more concrete plan.

Indra's upset and Clarke can only make out some of the words through the echoes off the ghostly brick walls. A quieter voice joins the conversation and Clarke quickens her step… eager to find out what's going on but also to lend a hand if the argument is anything about what she had already planned for Lexa this evening.

Lexa.

Who is still here.

Steady and beautiful even with her frown and her furrowed brow. And that ache inside goes away for a breath and then roars back with a force Clarke didn't think possible even though the look on her face would send chills down the spine of anyone else. Indra is immune.

And, apparently, so is Clarke. She bursts with an odd kind of joy to see it alive on Lexa's face.

Probably because Lexa is  _alive_. And well enough to be displaying her displeasure at being told off by her general. Her subordinate.

She spies Clarke but doesn't pull away from her conversation.

"You've made your opinion perfectly clear, Indra."

"Apparently not, since you still fight me on it.  _Heda_ , you know this is what is best."

"No, I do not." She commands the small space just like always.

Indra turns her exasperation to Clarke, stretching a hand out and gesturing at Lexa, who still stands with her hands behind her back. She looks as regal as she always did, and more calm than she should.

Indra grips the weapons at her side and rearranges her stance to include Clarke in the conversation.

"What are you discussing?" Clarke keeps her voice light, trying already to stave off whatever has grown sour between the two.

"Indra has been vocalizing her displeasure with my beliefs." Finally, Lexa addresses Clarke. Turns all of her  _being_  onto Clarke.

And, fuck, how Clarke has missed it.

This is the Lexa she knows. Strong and stubborn and thrumming with a certain energy.

In this second, this moment alone, Clarke finally fully believes reality.

It takes her off guard for a breath. Lexa studies her face, her eyes softer for a blink, then two, before her demeanor laces back up.

"Your beliefs around not returning to your duties?" Clarke stalls trying not to provoke her further. Not yet anyway.

" _Sha_."

Lexa eyes her curiously and Clarke wonders if she gained mind reading powers in her slumber.

"I-" Clarke starts and then stops, wanting to choose her words wisely for once. "I agree with Indra."

Lexa barely restrains herself from rolling her eyes. Clarke can see Indra shift out of the corner of her eye to make room for Maryl, who has joined the conversation. Aden hovers behind her, but soon makes up his mind and steps forward. Might as well keep going, now that the cat's out of the bag.

Lexa would be able to sense their plan anyway and whatever is decided will effect them, too.

" _Heda,_  there is something you need to know," Maryl interjects. She looks more uncomfortable than Clarke has ever seen her. Almost… unsure of what comes next. She looks her age.

Lexa does not speak, but looks away from Clarke and turns ever so slightly towards Maryl. Clarke tries to encourage the conversation, nudging her head and eyes as imperceptibly as possible between Maryl and Lexa. They both decided earlier the news would be received better if Maryl delivered it.

"Ontari never possessed the Flame." It's blunt. Direct.

Lexa almost reels back with it. Her mouth forms a thin line and she closes her eyes for a beat that seems to go on forever. "I thought you told me she had ascended," she keeps her voice low, almost a growl. Her eyes narrow and she looks cold. The warrior Clarke remembers from the woods.

"She had, but we did not know the full truth."

"Explain." Her head tilts back in a way that indicates she is listening, even if annoyed to be doing so. Maryl's gaze shifts again to Clarke. She's forgotten through this ordeal that Maryl is no more than a pre-teen. Her age hidden by wisdom, her calmness, her aura. But, she is not equipped for this yet. For Lexa in all of her anger.

Lexa doesn't miss it, but Clarke picks up the thread of conversation. "You know Ontari came and slaughtered the nightbloods. A true conclave never happened. But, what you don't know is that I had the Flame with me… he gave it to me... suggested I take it to Luna, that I find Luna. She'd be the only one to trust with the Flame."

"Luna?" Her face darkens.

"She never took it, don't worry. I found her but she didn't want this life. I had the Flame with me the whole time, Ontari never laid her hands on it."

"Ontari acted as Commander though she was not rightfully chosen and did not possess the Flame? How long was this allowed?" Darker still. She prowls now, back and forth. Her jaw working in that way that Clarke quickly learned meant she was holding back. Processing just how to channel her anger.

"Not long. I was gone for most of the time and when I got back Roan asked me to help her. He wanted me to give him the Flame and let the process take its course but I refused." Clarke tries to keep herself as calm as possible. Wanting to explain it right, to get it all out.

"It was not  _your right_  to refuse or to meddle in our traditions," Lexa does growl now. Her ire focused on Clarke and Clarke alone. It's a full-blown blast of everything the Commander possesses. The picture of her that remains forever etched in Clarke's memory. So formidable.

Infuriating.

And, well, so much for staying calm.

"It became my right when I was put in charge of the future of everyone here with another threat building behind my back. I had to do what was right for  _everyone_ , Lexa. Roan and Ontari knew nothing of what was happening with Jaha. You were dead, Titus was dead, Indra was gone... " She unleashes. Finally.

"Then why didn't you tell them?" Lexa's voice is controlled and quietly precise. It is worse than her shouting. A knife, carving to where it will hurt most.

"You think I didn't try? Roan got swept up in the mob at one point! He knew what was going on but he still tried to fix it even though he wasn't capable. Your traditions affect more than just those who have lived on the ground for the entire time, Lexa. You cannot keep putting this divide between us when it is convenient for you. Not after everything else."

Her glare is a thing of beauty. So threatening and forceful it would make lesser beings falter. "It was not your choice, Clarke."

"Then whose choice was it?"

Lexa holds her gaze for a long time. Her eyes give away nothing of what's happening inside her head. Clarke doesn't breathe, holds on to her ground the way she has for so long.

Lexa lets out a loud yell of pure frustration and turns away. Her hands pull into fists at her sides and she paces around the long, dark tunnel. Her strides long and even. Clarke waits a beat, then two.

"I had to do something or we all would have been pulled under." She regroups, wills her voice to stay calm as she explains. "I was trying to save us all, not just my people. More of yours were afflicted- Alie and Jaha found a way to gain an army and they took it. I didn't want everything you'd built, everything we'd salvaged, to crash down. Alie sought the flame… she  _wanted_  it. Ontari would have been too power hungry to see through it, Lexa. She would have given in easily."

"It is true,  _Heda._  Ontari was Nia's creation. She wanted only what was good for  _her_ \- power, allegiance, an iron grip. All the things that have made for our worst leaders." Indra states plainly. Truthfully. "Luna was a good choice. she would have been clear-eyed and not blinded by what Ontari was. Would have listened to those around her and she would not have given in."

"Luna chose to walk away, she can not come back."

It's an opening away from the past to the future and Clarke does not hesitate. "What would you suggest otherwise, Lexa? There are only maybe… three nightbloods who would survive a conclave down here." She shrugs her shoulders. That's a generous estimation at best. "What is your plan besides turning your back on everything you've ever known?"

Lexa is pure fire when she looks back at Clarke. "Don't you dare to presume you even understand a fraction of my beliefs."

Clarke steps closer to her, the fight burning inside of her whole body now. "I understand a hell of a lot more than you think,  _Heda_." Lexa scoffs. Clarke moves in, closer and closer with every word spilling off her lips. "Your  _Pramheda_? She was on the Ark when it left earth, part of the 13th station that fell away. She had  _my_  blood in her veins too,  _my_  tech,  _my history_. You've created all of this from  _us._  Don't for a second believe that I don't understand this. You've built a religion out of it? I've had my entire life living with it. Surrounded by it. We needed that technology to  _survive_ , Lexa. Same as you."

"Enough." It's a roar that echoes and bounces off the tiled walls and into Clarke's bones.

She's crossed a line now. Lexa hasn't looked this angry or this shocked since Bellamy slaughtered her army.

"Let me explain-"

When she walks away this time Clarke doesn't follow.

She's done enough damage for one day.

 

Xx

 

"I'm worried about you." The words would have scared her out of her skin if she didn't spot her mother by the window in the split second before. She has no idea how long Abby has been up here waiting. She barely holds back the frustrated sigh, her head still swimming with her anger at Lexa.

"What no hello? You're going straight for the guilt?"

There's a look. "Hello, Clarke. I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine, Mom." Clarke sits on the edge of her bed and yanks her boots off. There is relief in stretching her toes and rolling her ankles. She longs to fling herself back on the bed and curl into the furs and fall into a deep sleep. Anything to forget the way she bombed any chance they had with Lexa.

"You don't look fine, and your actions lately don't seem to be those of someone who is either."

"What actions? You haven't even seen me in days."

"Exactly. I've heard rumors about you roaming the tower and the grounds at all hours of the night." Abby eyes her face critically, honing in on the bags Clarke knows to be under her eyes. "I gave you the medicine to help you sleep for a reason. You can't heal if you're not sleeping."

"I am sleeping."

A glare, instead of a verbal response.

Clarke moves around the room, itching under her mother's eyes. Exacting and clinical. Her mother has always been able to read the things Clarke has even tried to hide from herself. She can't even begin the conversation of not taking the meds, pills pulled from the depths of storage on the Ark no doubt. Even if she wanted to she's not sure even they could help. And then there's the matter of her new role in the tower.

"Is there a reason you came up?"

"I didn't know I needed a reason to see my daughter?" There it is. Drops hard even though Abby keeps her voice soft. "Although I suppose the guards outside your door would prove evidence enough."

"You should have seen it when I first came to Polis." She snorts, but Abby doesn't waver. She sits back down.

"I thought after everything…"

"Mom," Clarke pats her bed, too tired to keep up the chess match. "I'm fine. It's been a weird week but, I'm okay."

Abby joins her on the bed, careful not to get too close. "I wish you'd come down to the clinic, I could really use your help." Clarke studies her mother's face and sees the bags under her eyes. "I saw you outside today."

"I don't really think it's a good idea."

Abby sighs. "Maybe not, but I thought I'd ask." She rubs her thighs and they sit there in the quiet together. Her mother wouldn't ask unless she really, really needed the help. She was never one to ask often on the Ark either. But, it's another thing on Clarke's plate. Another pull.

"When's the last time you ate?"

"I had some food at the clinic."

"Yeah, but when? I know how you get, Mom. You can't be a hypocrite and tell me you're worried about me if you're not taking care of yourself. I can have them bring something up."

"No, no. I'm fine."

There are words unspoken. They're heavy in the air, weighing down heavier and heavier with each passing second.

"What are we going to do?" She says it more to herself than anything.

"I don't know."

"You weren't in there, Mom. The place I was in wasn't peaceful. It wasn't happy. It needed to be stopped… it needed to be put to an end, before we all lost control to a simulation that would have ended the world again."

"Clarke?"

"It was all such a mess.  _We_  created this mess."

"I remember what you said when you came out of it, honey. But we need to move on and help these people here. Now. Work together for it now that-"

"They all hate me. I brought them back pain and suffering." Her voice cracks and a few hot tears slink out of her eyes. "They were happy in there-"

"You did what was  _right_ , Clarke. What needed to be done. It's not always easy." It was her mother's hand in hers every step of the way. It was her mother's work, making it all possible. She is not alone… but the burden is heavy. Publicly on her shoulders.

Her mother knows that burden and knows it well.

Her mind wanders to Lexa. Commander before she was out of her teenage years. Responsible for the blood of her sisters and brothers on her hands just to take the mantle.

Responsible for everyone. Everything.

When she was the same age, Clarke was only concerned with playing chess with Wells and bribing him to help her finish homework.

Suddenly it all seems overwhelming. The choices, the decisions that Lexa bore. The weight of the world.

Everything they knew.

She handled it, trained for it, craved it.

Extraordinarily.

 _To be Commander is to be alone._  Clarke overheard it more than once. From Lexa. From the  _natblida_. From Titus. But it rings loudly now. Louder than ever before.

It is the feeling she's carried with her for weeks that finally has a name. Bigger than anything she ever experienced.

Bigger than her solitary confinement.

Bigger than pulling the lever in the mountain.

Bigger than her time in the woods.

 _Alone_.

Even with people around her, holding her hand, guiding her… she is alone in it.

There is only one person on this earth that understands exactly what it feels like.

Clarke hates that she has to be the one to ask it of her.

The one person who deserved to have a breath, a moment, to think and to feel without that burden on her shoulders. Who understands just how heavy it is and the true weight of taking it back.

It sinks in. Settles in her ribcage and tightens so that Clarke almost cannot breathe. The true reality that will come to pass. The one Clarke hadn't really pulled into consideration, had kept hidden in the back of her mind.

There is no hiding from it now.

If Lexa returns to the people, she cannot return to Clarke.

 

Xx

 

Clarke finds her sitting alone in the room with the wash basin and the small fire. Clarke does a quick scan- looking for anything that might be off about her. If she's still sore. Still hurting. Her back is facing away from Clarke but she does it anyway.

"You've always been bold." Lexa doesn't sound bitter. She doesn't sound angry.

It's the same way she used to talk to Clarke in her war tent when it was just the two of them. When their disagreements were over army placements and strategies.

"I saw it, you know." It's not what she meant to say and her voice sounds odd to her own ears. Her throat is tight with anxiety or adrenaline or a mix of both. She pushes the words past her lips, keeps going. This is it now. This is the last chance. "The diaries and journals and the room with the paintings. I saw it, Lexa. I read them and understood. Because I know where it comes from, more than any of the  _fleimkepa_  could. I was wrong to say it the way that I did, but I needed you to hear me."

Lexa is quiet and stays turned away from Clarke. "I can't stop thinking about everything that went wrong that day and how I could have stopped it."

It's not what Clarke was expecting. "You didn't know."

"I did. I knew what he thought. I knew his mind better than he did… except in this. I didn't think he'd try to kill you."

Hearing the words out loud takes the air out of Clarke. As much as she's tried to block out that day, she can't. She relives it. Over and over and over every time she falls asleep. Every time there is a quiet moment, or when a loud noise sounds out unexpectedly. Every time she thinks about what she had when she allowed herself to be selfish.

"For that I am sorry, Clarke." The way Lexa cradles the sounds of Clarke's name, how tenderly she can say it, breaks something inside of Clarke she didn't know she was holding on to.

"You didn't know, you didn't. You were supposed to trust him." It's all she can piece together. The tragedy of that afternoon is so crystalline in her memory that it hurts to look at.

"He was jealous. He was so jealous of you and your people… and then he showed you everything about our beliefs as soon as I was gone. All the things you could never know and that I was supposed to keep from you. He just… gave them to you." There is heartbreak so clearly painted in her expression. Clarke doesn't know who it's for.

Maybe she never will.

"Yeah," Clarke says quietly. It's true. It all happened so quickly she never really thought that much about it, the grief was too heavy, too blinding. Lexa was taken away from her before she had a chance to reason with herself about all the things she was feeling. He almost killed Clarke and then showed her every single piece of their well-kept secrets without any hesitation. He almost  _killed_  Clarke and then she went with him, followed him,  _listened_  to him. Maybe she had a death wish after all.

"I don't understand it."

"I don't either."

"I know why you're here but, please. Don't." Her voice is so small and so broken. Clarke wants to drop it, leave it there in the stupid ancient subway and run away with Lexa. Run away and keep her.

Keep her. All for Clarke.

It's a dream that will never happen.

If Clarke is selfish again- if she takes what she wants. What she longs for. The world almost ended again. Her world  _did_  end. What would happen this time? Three times Lexa has been within reach, within her grasp if only she would act on it. Three times she lost her. Lexa has left. Has walked away, has been taken from her, has been shut down  _by_  her.

There can be no fourth time. Clarke wouldn't survive it.

With a heavy heart, she puts it away. Accepts the ache that has become a part of her and will forever be there now that she's made her choice.

Lexa will never be Clarke's while she belongs to her people.

She fishes the Flame out of her pocket. It's no longer in its box and it looks smaller like this. In her bare palm waiting. Waiting for something that may never come. "Maryl told me this has never happened before. We are in uncharted territory now."

"You won't convince me of this, Clarke." Lexa gets up and starts to walk away but Clarke cannot let her.

"You'd be the first. The only one to survive like this. How can you walk away from that?"

Lexa turns her body so it's facing Clarke again at an angle. "It is what is demanded of me."

"By who?"

Lexa stares off for a long moment before meeting Clarke's eyes. "Tradition." Her voice is soft but devastating.

"Sometimes we need new traditions." Lexa opens her mouth and begins to shake her head but Clarke doesn't let her interrupt. "Please?"

She's never asked before and it must catch Lexa off guard, so she barrels on. Ignores the way her heart, her blood, scream out at her to stop. To accept it. To let Lexa be done and to follow her wherever she may go. As long as they're together. She finds her resolve somehow. It's the right call. Lexa is who the people need and Clarke believes that with every fiber of her being. She's risked everything for it.

She's made her choice, now Lexa must make hers.

"You brought the clans together, you broke that tradition. And the Mountain no longer hunts you- it's been eradicated. Blood must not have blood...You have always broken barriers, Lexa." She tries to be gentle with her words, but the passion in her voice, in her being, is hard to harness and hold back.

Lexa sets her mouth in a thin line but does not look away from Clarke.

"Be the leader they need. Be the leader you  _are._  You are a legend, Lexa. Think of everything else you can accomplish for the good of our people. But only if you keep going."

Clarke holds out the chip, it feels warm in her hand. Like it's begun to notice Lexa's presence. As if Lexa calls to it. "If you believe this is what makes you the Commander I know how to give it back to you without reopening your wound. I showed Maryl."

Lexa stares at it. Maybe it  _is_  calling to her.

"Do it or don't, it's your call. But, don't make the decision because of some old rules and beliefs. If you walk away, do it because that's what  _you_ want."

Clarke hands over the chip and closes Lexa's hand around it. She holds eye contact until she can see Lexa relax. She drops a swift kiss on Lexa's forehead and then she leaves. It's all in Lexa's hands now.

Their future depends on her.

 

Xx

 

" _Wanheda_ , we must discuss what happens after the ceremony." The delegate from _Sankru_ remains insistent with her. Most of the advisors who were called back to Polis for the conclave that never happened have in turn, never left. Clarke has held informal meetings with them every day, sometimes twice, to quell their anxieties.

"The ceremony is set for tomorrow. We still have time to figure things out."

Clarke has no idea how or why all of these people are asking her what comes next. Not one of them has stepped up to the plate to offer any suggestions. She's beginning to see why Lexa tired of her council meetings and complained so often. All they want is answers from her, choices and decisions that they can then knock down and criticize. Not even Roan tries to help her out today, he just sits there with an amused smile on his face drinking it all in. Clarke wants to shove him.

She's not sure how much longer she can stall them… there's been no word from Lexa on her decision. Clarke is starting to fear that she may really be alone in this. _Skaikru_ 's seat remains empty, offering her no help. Her own people. The rotating seat has been taken so far by Kane, Abby, Raven when she wasn't upset with Clarke. She would have expected better from them, they haven't made the best impression yet.

"If no one has anything else to add, I suggest we all break now and prepare for the ceremony to take place tomorrow. I have things to do so… carry on." She stands from the chair, Lexa's throne was placed in the makeshift meeting room they've been utilizing since Clarke still will not set foot in the throne room. It remains pushed to the side where it will as long as Lexa is not here to sit in it. There are a few looks of frustration and surprise shared around the room as Clarke walks by, in no mood to entertain this farce for a second longer. Luka opens the door and follows her out into the hallway where she nearly bumps into Raven.

"You're late," she huffs.

"Better late than never, I guess. You're lucky I even came up here."

"Yeah, well the meeting is over."

Raven rolls her eyes so far into the back of her head, Clarke is surprised they don't get stuck. She's not ready for a fight. Not now. She's exhausted and hungry and there's a headache that's been prickling at the base of her skull for the past hour. "Do you want lunch?"

She catches Raven off guard and watches eyes narrow as Raven judges the offer. "Uh, sure."

They walk the short distance to Clarke's room in silence. Luka moves ahead of them to open the door, giving his short nod as they pass by. He closes it behind them and Clarke knows they will not be disturbed unless the matter is urgent.

Though, some of those urgent matters have seemed remarkably less so in hindsight.

"I'm surprised you were the one coming up today." There's already a tray of food in Clarke's room. It's more than enough for the two of them to share- Clarke believes the cooks don't think she eats enough.

She probably doesn't. More pressing matters steal her attention.

"Drew the short straw." Raven is still blunt. Angry. Hurt. She plops into a chair and grabs a slice of bread from the tray.

"What was it like… for you?" Might as well get to the heart of it, they've never been a pair for small talk.

"With Alie?" Clarke nods and Raven's face pales. "It was a living hell."

"I thought your pain went away?"

"My physical pain, yes. But it brought so much more."

"How did you get out? You broke her hold over you… how?"

"Sheer fucking will power, I guess," Raven smirks. "Come on, Clarke. You know I won't be controlled by anyone else, no matter how hot they are."

Clarke allows herself to smile with Raven. "I never really thanked you for helping me get out of there, for helping me destroy it."

She nods and they share a look. That pang of guilt Clarke carried around with her finally dissipates. "It needed to be."

Clarke spoons some of the stew into a bowl for Raven and passes it over. They eat quietly, Raven telling her about some of the patients Abby is treating and some of what's going on with Jaha and Pike.

"Did you know Octavia was back?" she asks Clarke around a full mouthful of potato.

"I saw her yesterday."

"She and Lincoln came back for the ceremony, but I don't think they will stay. Lincoln still looked a little jittery."

"He has nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, well. I don't think this place was ever home for him."

"You're probably right," Clarke agrees, picking at her stew. Raven notices.

"Hey… how are you doing? Since, you know… with everything?"

Clarke tries not to grimace, unsure how to proceed. Raven is being kind… but Clarke cannot reveal that things are immeasurably better since Lexa showed up alive and as frustrating as ever. She hedges around it. "Oh. Some days are better than others, I guess."

Raven seems to accept the half-truth and doesn't ask any more questions.

They continue lunch in the detente they forged- not entirely back to where they were but at least on the road. Clarke promises to help Raven with her stretches and Raven lets her off the hook for not being down in the clinic with Abby.

They almost complete the meal when Luka knocks and opens the door with a solemn expression.

" _Wanheda_ , Indra is here to see you."

"Indra?" Raven glances at Clarke quizzically. "You really do have a lot on your plate." It sounds almost bitter. Clarke doesn't touch it.

"Correct. Luka, send her in. Raven…"

"Got it. Thanks for lunch. You've got some nice perks with this gig." She shuffles out before Clarke can think about her statement harder than she needs to.

Indra walks in and steals all of her attention, waiting for Luka to quietly close the door.

"I've come to collect her things."

Clarke's heart stops in her chest and her stomach bottoms out. "What do you mean?"

"She's requested some items." Indra is giving Clarke nothing more than she has to.

"Yes, but… has she told you why?"

" _Heda_ 's mind is her own, she tells me only what I need to know."

"Indra, please." Lexa's things are hidden away in a large armoire in the corner of Clarke's room. She hasn't looked at them, hasn't touched them. Afraid of what would happen if she let herself remember everything Lexa built herself up to be.

" _Heda_  also requested that the funeral ceremony be moved to tonight. I believe there is enough time for that." A wicked grin spreads on Indra's face and the meaning hits home for Clarke.

She simultaneously wants to jump for joy and drown her sorrows at the road forward that's just been unveiled.

 

Xx

 

A strange hush falls over the crowd, stronger than just moments ago when everyone gathered for the solemn duties ahead. The large pyre looms behind Clarke, Indra, Roan, Maryl, and the ambassadors that still remain in the city.

Most of them are here.

Good.

Cut down the number of explanations necessary for this madness from the beginning.

A flame can be seen moving through the woods that encircle the crowd. The pyre has been built in a part of the city that Clarke is not familiar with- it's peaceful. Offers a breath of solitude.

The flicker of the fire grows brighter and brighter, bigger and bigger until the person holding it is in clear view. She's on horseback as she emerges from the woods and it is a picture from another lifetime.

The quiet is deafening then. A vacuum. A void of sound. Like space.

It lasts a beat, and then two.

Clarke's heart beats wildly in her chest and her hands shake.

The torchbearer doesn't move and the horse doesn't either. She looks straight ahead at the pyre. At Clarke. Her eyes are steel even from here. Hidden behind layers of warpaint and a grim expression.

Clarke's stomach flops to her feet and bounces back up where it belongs.

It pulses and thrums inside of her.  _Love_.

Gasps sound from the crowd then. Whispers and murmurs. A few people yell out, a woman screams. One or two might faint, Clarke can't tell. She doesn't take her eyes off Lexa, waiting there with a torch in her hand and that stoic, imposing look on her face.

Here is  _Heda_.

Alive.

Returned.

Lexa urges the horse forward slowly. Her eyes move through the crowd now, scanning and surveying. Her expression does not change. It's almost like a challenge, asking them all to believe it.

Believe the image before them.

Clarke does for once without question.

For here is Lexa as she is, as she should be.

Shock wears off when Lexa nears the front of the crowd. Hands reach out to touch her, to grab at her. To test for themselves if the vision there is what is appears to be. Her hand never wavers on the torch and Clarke makes note of the gloves that adorn them. The same as always. Black and bone. Her paldron, too. It looks at home on Lexa's shoulder.

Clarke believes it now. The armor, the warpaint, the look on her face, the sword at her side.

 _Heda_.

Lexa.

Here.

The effect of her staring there in all of her glory is staggering. Clarke didn't think it would hit her as hard as it does, but she holds her breath taking it all in. Not having seen Lexa since the last time they spoke when she left her with the Flame. Not having heard of her plans firsthand. Not watching the armor come on, the shield. The warpaint.

It is overwhelming. She takes in the crowd around them, a mixture of disbelief and triumph. Some of the faces Clarke knows best look astounded, happy tears and surprised smiles adorn their faces. Others stare agog at the Commander of the Blood making her return to her rightful place.

Lexa the drama queen who couldn't let this opportunity pass her by.

Clarke rolls her eyes again.

How could Lexa have ever thought she could walk away from this? From  _this_? This is her life's blood.

Raven catches her eye in the crowd and mouths  _what the fuck_  at Clarke and Clarke answers with a shrug. She can see the hurt flit on Raven's face before it's gone and hidden behind stone.

She'll owe Raven more apologies. Explanations. Fucking olive branches.

Lincoln looks as though he's seen as ghost, and for him he probably has. Octavia has a firm hold on his arm and looks poised for a fight at any moment, but they don't have to worry. When Clarke finds her mother again in the crowd, she's studying Clarke's face like she can read every single thing on it. Clarke can practically hear her mother's voice in her ears, all of her opinions are there to read in one single look. So, Clarke looks away.

The Lexa that rejoins her people is not the Lexa that was here before. No, the one who makes it to the front of the crowd and dismounts, standing just slightly in front of Clarke after a slight nod of recognition to her and to the others there is different.

Wiser. Kinder. Open.

She almost died for it.

That ache inside Clarke thrums loudly, reaching out for Lexa until Clarke shoves it down as much as she can. This is what you wanted, she reminds herself. This was the right choice.

The murmuring and whispers stop again and that precise stillness feels so loud and heavy Clarke wonders if it's not supernatural. Even the forest around them remains preternaturally mute.

Lexa raises her torch and adjusts her posture gripping her sword for confidence.

She takes a breath.

And then the world they all know changes again.

 

Xx

 

The pyre burns. The tradition is for everyone to watch it until it is completely aflame, and then leave the space for the mourners to come forward. Clarke remembers a time almost eons ago when Lexa stood with her, offering condolences and peace only to then leave her with her thoughts. Allowed her the space to reflect and let go.

They watch the flames lick into the dusk, growing brighter as the sky around them grows darker. A light. A beacon.

Lexa turns and quietly asks the ambassadors to return to the tower with her. There is much to discuss. There is a mixture of shock, happiness, anger- it's going to be a long meeting with them and Clarke is not looking forward to it.

Roan gets close to Clarke as they head back, a strange look of delight on his face. "You always have something up your sleeve don't you?"

"I didn't plan this," she answers. The group has already started pelting Lexa with questions but she remains silent. She will not entertain anyone until they are in private.

"Sure, you didn't. And yet, here we are." He lifts his eyebrows and gestures to Lexa, who leads the group with Indra back inside.

Before Clarke can make it to the makeshift meeting room, a hand hooks into her elbow and pulls her aside into a dark corner. She reaches out to fight, to react, until she sees the face attached.

The glare Lexa has for her could burn holes through the metal of the Ark.

"Clarke," she growls low and quiet, "what did you do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so grateful to have the support that I have for this fic. Both in the readership and in the headcanoning and editing that I receive. So, so, grateful.


	4. Chapter 4

Clarke's eyes grow wide for a split second before they narrow. She twists her arm out of Lexa's grasp with a cold indifference. The chatter in her head is louder than she remembers, louder with the emotions roiling through her. She steps even closer to Clarke and backs her against the wall. She can't make sense of what's happening inside her head or with the girl in front of her. The one who looked at her so openly only moments ago.

The one who is too good at hiding her truth.

"We don't have time for this, Lexa," Clarke states, not breaking her gaze and not backing down from Lexa's anger.

As if on cue, Indra steps back out from the room all of the advisors and delegates filed into and looks up at her. " _Heda_."

"We're not done with this." Clarke does blink then, a small reaction to the venom Lexa allows to seep into her voice. How easily her heart and her head have fallen back into the pattern, the worn routine of warring with each other when it comes to Clarke Griffin.

"Of course not,  _Heda_." Clarke lets Lexa's title drag on her tongue, between her teeth. Venom all her own. She leaves Lexa alone in the hallway trying to still the noise in her head and the ache in her heart.

There is much to be done.

Xx

The general sense of awe and wonder hasn't left the room. Lexa thought she'd be used to it by now with Indra and Clarke around her for the past few days, but seeing the council gathered together and gaping up at her is something new entirely. She's used to inspiring people,  _her_  people, commanding both their attention and respect, but this is...

It's thrilling.

Just as the long walk through the crowd was earlier. The shock and amazement, the gasps. It ran chills down her spine.

These are her people. They have always been her people, they don't just need her they seem to want her. There were no roars or cheers from the crowd, not one filled with mourners ready to perform a solemn and sacred ritual.

But, there was hope. Hope and renewal. In the eyes that met hers, in the air that surrounded them.

It is all exactly what she wanted, where she wants to be. Needs to be.

Despite everything else, every other bump in the road and moment of doubt, it was the perfect way to announce her return. Clarke and Indra were right in the suggestion and Lexa cannot deny that even if she hasn't looked at Clarke for the duration of the meeting, still too angry with her willful disregard for full truths.

What would have happened if the people were not happy to see her alive? Well enough to continue to lead them? What if they still do not accept her in her rightful place? She has never doubted her place before. Not since the conclave. Doing so pulls her back to the time of her early training- before she had a good assessment of the other novitiates. Of her brothers and sisters in arms.

There was a fire that burned inside of her, bright and hot and angry that fed on her will and her pride and her knowledge. It was that fire that propelled her. The one she still carries inside, even now.

" _Heda,_  I don't understand -" an angry voice barges in and pulls her from her mind. "No one in our history has done this before. You let us all mourn for you and yet have come back from the dead. A terrible trick you played on us all."

"It was not a trick, I can assure you." Lexa cuts the argument off before it can begin anew. She knew she would have a lot of work before they fully accepted her presence but they've been in council for what seems like an eternity and no amount of time will help anyone in this room fully understand all that unfolded in such a short span. Those gathered have flipped between acceptance and denial of all that has been said.

She's not even sure  _she_  fully understands it. Even so, there are things about  _Heda_ that are only known to the  _natblida_  and  _fleimkepa_ and though things have changed, that will remain the same as long as Lexa stands before them alive and well.

"As I have already stated to you all, I have explained as much as I am willing to. I stand before you here as I have before countless other times. The intricacies of what is required of  _Heda_ have never been privy to this council and they will not become privy to this council now. The threat has been defeated, the people have returned from the brink of war, and a coup has been stopped."

"Thanks to  _Wanheda_." Roan. Of course. He addresses Clarke and only Clarke. "Did you know about this?"

Lexa opens her mouth to stop the questioning that's about to happen, but Clarke beats her to the punch.

"I don't owe you any explanations." It's off the cuff and Lexa can see the other assembled members ruffle at it. Clarke sends her a quick look. It's the first they've shared since the hallway and Lexa has no idea how Clarke will answer or if she will support her. They didn't get this far in any of their discussions. And in a way, Lexa surprised Clarke today, too. "But, since you asked so nicely… no. Not right away."

"But you found out?"

"Yes," she answers quietly. The one word sums it all up and her tone of voice makes it clear that she will expand no further.

"When? Did anyone else know?"

Lexa does put a stop to it now. "Enough." In an instant, all eyes turn to her and the mood in the room changes. "What's done is done. Both Indra and  _Wanheda_ were instrumental to this moment here now and worked with me to ensure that our people would be safe until I could return. We can reconvene in the morning but this matter has been put to rest." She holds firm and those that may have added to the discussion settle back.

There is nothing but silence and uncomfortable shifting around the room. Lexa waits much longer than she needs to before speaking again. "Thank you all for your time."

" _Heda_ , may I speak before we adjourn?" The ambassador from _Delfikru_ , an old man with a hunched back who has seen more commanders in his lifetime than anyone else rises unsteadily to his feet. His hand grips his walking stick so firmly Lexa fears it will break.

"Yes." Lexa barely holds back the sigh from her lips at the request.

"I believe it will put the matter to rest fully." He takes a long look at everyone in the room. "Each clan here today pledged their loyalty not only to you, but to the coalition." He addresses the room as much as he addresses Lexa. "That loyalty has been tested again and again, and still it does not fade. It persists. The coalition lives. You live. By sacred tradition you were chosen to lead us until death. Since that has not yet happened and since the coalition still stands firm, you, Lexa _kom Trikru_ , will continue to have the full support of _Delfikru_."

The others sit up in rapt attention as he speaks, commanding their respect with not only his age but his wisdom. He has always been a voice of reason amidst chaos. His words land how they were intended to as the air grows lighter around them. There are some murmurs throughout the room and Lexa chances a glance at Clarke, who seems surprised and happy.

Slowly, one by one, every other ambassador stands up and pledges the same. Loyalty. Gratefulness. Relief. Around the circle they go until, at last, it is Roan's turn.

"You've had the support of  _Azgeda_  for longer than you've known,  _Heda_." He bows low and offers a genuine smile.

Lexa releases a breath she didn't know she was holding and the vice around her chest loosens.

There is more work to be done and more discontent to soothe, but this is a start.

Something solid.

 

Xx

 

"You carried the Flame?" She paces, hands behind her back and steps heavy and swift back and forth through the room. Not daring to look up at Clarke. Not wanting to believe the truth that has become so clear. "You?"

After everything they've been through, everything since… Lexa didn't think Clarke would pull something like this. She thought they were making progress.

Clarke always has hidden truths and secrets. Lexa should know better. Her ire sweeps through her again.

"It's not what you think, Lexa-" Clarke tries, but Lexa looks up and cuts her down with a single look. Her blood boils, rages. Her fingers itch. The disregard for everything that has ever mattered to her, that she has believed in, is too much. It is utter blasphemy.

She should have Clarke banished.

Just the thought makes her stomach lurch.

"Your voice is in my head and Ontari never truly ascended. Do not  _tell me_  that it is  _not_ what I  _think_." She spins and rounds on Clarke with a snarl. There's a flinch, but Clarke holds her ground. She remains unafraid of the force of anger leveled at her. "You went beyond the bounds of anything I thought even  _you_  capable of. How did you even survive it? The Flame can only be carried by  _natblida._ "

Clarke falters for just a second. She looks away, to the side, and then squares her shoulders and meets Lexa as if ready for a fight. A real one.

"You do not get to judge me for how I held this world together while you were  _dead._  I did what was necessary. I saved my people and yours. I destroyed the City of Light with you by my side and then I woke up."

"Enough- I do not want to hear about the City of Light. I don't want to hear about your war or your decisions. How did you survive it?" She enunciates every word of the last question. The voices in her head all screaming. One louder than the rest. The one she cannot yet mute.

In life or in her head.

"The truth."

"I-" Clarke starts and stops. Again she looks off to the side. Is it shame? Discomfort? "Ontari… we couldn't trust her. There was a fight and an accident. She was alive but she would never be the same- a blow to the head. We needed to use the chi- the Flame - and my mother and I worked out a way to use Ontari's blood. It allowed me to carry the Flame but only for a short while."

That stops Lexa in her tracks.

"You became  _natblida_?" She moves to Clarke in one quick motion and grabs her arm, ready to scratch at her wrist and watch the black blood pool to the surface. She remembers doing it as a child on that day when what she assumed was normal for everyone was turned on its side. How dark it looked when it dripped out of her hand and onto the dirt at her feet. How much darker it seemed now that she knew she was different.

Special.

Chosen.

Clarke pulls her hand away with a huff. Her eyes are wild again and the anger that she barely keeps caged is clawing its way out.

"No. I am not."

"I do not understand." The Clarke inside her head asks her to listen, tells her to. She wants to. She doesn't want to fight anymore.

"You wouldn't," she snaps. "You won't even understand when I tell you."

It's biting. Lexa loves it.

"You're not leaving here until you do."

"Are you going to lock me away again, Lexa? Keep me in my room like a pet? Haven't we moved past that yet?" Bitter and resentful.

Her heart thumps in her chest even though the anger.  _Yes_ , it says.  _Yes, we have_.

"Clarke," she tries again. Even. Takes a staggering breath and gives it up. They will not get anywhere like this. No matter what traditions have been broken, what formalities have been pushed aside so life could survive. It will always be this way. The  _Skaikru_  shook the foundations of everything when they came crashing down.

Clarke shook the foundations of everything, right under Lexa's boots.

And she allowed it.

Her disrupter.

This is the future now. This is what life will be.

If it means Clarke is here and in her life she wouldn't want it any other way.

"Did you think I would be able to live with you in my head? Like this?" she hisses. The truth of it finally coming out. "More than you already are?" It shocks her. The realization. The Clarke in front of her cocks her head. "Did you? Tell me, before I rip this thing out of my head myself." She means it to be angry, but it comes out with the exhaustion she can feel inside of her bones.

The voices in her head finally stop. All of them.

Clarke gives way then. Finds a chair and plops down in it so ungracefully Lexa wishes she could laugh. But now is not the time for laughter. She is awake now, her people have seen her and have heard her speak. The two of them must figure this out before a new day begins and she fully resumes her duties.

Before she lets herself get twisted up even more fully in whatever this is between them.

A hand pulls through blonde hair and Lexa can see the exhaustion that swims around Clarke, too. It matches her own.

"I did not become  _Natblida._  My mother. She did this thing - it wasn't as advanced as we used to perform it on the Ark. There's a procedure that's used to help save lives- it's like you borrow blood. The blood has to match so it doesn't make you sick, but it can be pulled from your body and into someone else's to help them heal. It's done often in surgery, or if there's a bleed somewhere so the heart has enough to get oxygen to the brain." She pauses for a few long beats as if remembering what happened next. The trauma of it all weighs heavy in the room. Whatever this was it was difficult in many ways. If Lexa closes her own eyes she knows she will see what Clarke did.

"We were able to rig something up quickly that would get Ontari's blood into my body- she was brain dead but we kept her heart beating." Clarke looks up at her with heavy eyes. "It worked, but barely. As soon as I was able to… finish… what I needed to do, we pulled the line out and let her rest."

Lexa doesn't understand most of what Clarke is saying, not really. In theory maybe. She lets her guard down briefly and a flash of a memory appears before her eyes, but it's gone in a blink. Lexa is grateful for it, she doesn't want to live this through Clarke's memories. She doesn't want to see the ugliness that the brief flash implied.

She focuses instead on the mechanics of what Clarke said, the things she could easily understand. "Your blood does not match."

"No, it doesn't."

"But you are not sick."

"I'm not. There must be something different about the nightblood. Well," she shrugs and offers the hint of a smile at Lexa, "I guess we both know that after this week."

Lexa remembers how Clarke poked at her wounds with awe as they healed faster than she expected. "Yes," she says quietly.

The anger, the harsh tension between them, all but snaps. Breaks and filters away. Just like that.

Maybe this will be the new normal, too. The future. Without grudges and pain and misery. Without both of them fighting each other. Fighting harder instead to be with each other, and for each other.

Life will never be that easy with Clarke. Lexa would never want it to be. But it doesn't have to be all gnashing teeth either.

"I didn't think it would… matter. I- you- there weren't any nightbloods, I thought the Flame would just… stay in my pocket." Clarke's eyes begin to shimmer again, but she doesn't break. Not this time. "And I thought that with the City being gone… the Flame wouldn't be connected to anything. I didn't think it would matter." There is so much resignation on her face. It's the truth, there is no twisting it.

Lexa sits with all of it. She knows if she closes her eyes she'll see it there. Unwanted. Ontari may have been wrong, but she was still a nightblood.

"It was just a tool, Lexa." Clarke breaks through her thoughts. "I needed help. It was the only thing that could work. It was an impossible choice but I made it with all of the information I had. It's what you would have done."

It is. Lexa cannot deny that and she won't try to. She can see how heavily these things have weighed on Clarke. The last time she took herself to the woods and wouldn't come out until she was dragged.

Lexa cannot risk that again.

She doesn't want to.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice is soft and Clarke nearly breaks. Her shoulders slump forward and she lets out a long sigh of relief.

"I just… I just needed you back, Lexa. They needed you back… that was my only focus. I can't do what you do."

A wave of acceptance sweeps over Lexa. Both the voices that were clanging in her head and the look on Clarke's face confirm it. She thinks about the days before, how hard Clarke worked to convince her this is where she needed to be.

It was. It is.

It stands as further validation of everything her heart was screaming at her: Clarke did not want to take her place. Clarke didn't want  _anyone_ to take her place.

_I don't want the next commander, I want you._

She reaches a hand out and clasps Clarke's- startling the other girl. "We have to be able to trust each other even with heavy truths such as this."

"I know."

There is a long moment that spans between them. Weaving something back together. Those invisible threads that have tied to her to Clarke inextricably since the ship crashed out of the sky.

Clarke softens, bit by bit. With each breath. Her thumb begins working over the skin of Lexa's hand. A soothing habit that Lexa feels all over every inch of her body. Slowly, she softens, too. Too tired and too in love to be angry anymore.

"You look exhausted," Clarke says quietly.

"I don't understand how I am still so tired."

"You may have special blood but your body still needs time to heal. Plus, you decided on wearing all of your heavy armor…" her eyes sparkle in jest. It doesn't feel quite comfortable yet, but it's a step.

"It was necessary," Lexa teases. Leans in.

"Oh, I'll agree with you there, Commander. You've never been one to shy away from dramatics." Clarke rolls her eyes and Lexa inches her body closer. Cannot help how her limbs do everything in their power to be closer to Clarke.

"Showmanship is important. One of the first lessons I learned." Clarke raises her eyebrow in silent question. "Anya."

"Makes sense."

Lexa finally takes in their surroundings. It's one of the guest rooms, one Anya would frequent on her trips to Polis. It's not as grand as the one Clarke was in before and nowhere near as comfortable and large as Lexa's. "Why are you sleeping in here?"

The look Clarke gives her in lieu of answer speaks volumes.

"And my room?"

"Too many memories," she answers quietly.

It stretches in Lexa's bones. The exhaustion. The memories. The love she has for this impossible girl before her. She no longer has it in her to be anything but open. Not when Clarke is looking at her like that. Not when Lexa's own hands ache to touch and her arms long to hold. They've spent so much time yearning for each other. So much time with stubborn will and unnecessary frustration as bedfellows.

Something changes on Clarke's face.

The voices in her head are still quiet. Silent.

All of them.

There is not a breath or a sound that doesn't belong here in this room.

"Can I stay?"

Clarke's eyes flit back to hers. It's so reminiscent of that confession Lexa swallowed down. She feels as bare as she did then. Vulnerable.

"Yeah," it's shaky. Clarke clears her throat and leans closer. "Yes, you can stay, Lexa."

The tension in her body immediately evaporates. Suddenly her armor feels too heavy, too cumbersome. She reaches up to undo the pauldron at her shoulder and struggles with the clasps. Clarke's steady hands replace hers in one fluid motion and remove it, setting it gently on the chair she just vacated. She stands close to Lexa who wants nothing more than to wrap her arms around Clarke's waist and pull her close. She wants to lay her ear against Clarke's chest and feel her heartbeat. The solid reality of her.

That day spent in Clarke's embrace, feeding on the feelings they had grown to share cracked Lexa open in ways she hadn't fully realized. Broke away the walls and the barriers.

Freed her from shackles she had grown too accustomed to.

There is freedom here. With Clarke.

Life.

Just the thought of spending the night apart from Clarke now that she's back in the tower, back in her life, is too much to bear. Retreating to an empty bed,  _her_  empty bed, after all of this is something Lexa no longer wants to think about. Not after the last time she was in it.

Clarke gently pulls her to standing and works fastidiously at the buckles on Lexa's coat. One by one they open and then the coat falls to the floor. Lexa loosens her belt, steadying the sword. Removing the daggers, one by one. Clarke watches with bemusement in her eyes until all the markings and trappings of  _Heda_ have been pulled away.

"Let me get you some water and a cloth." She gestures to Lexa's face. The war paint. The last remaining marker of Lexa's status. While Clarke is busy in the corner of the room, Lexa works her braids out. Pulling them swiftly apart, nimble fingers performing routines from what feels like another life.

Clarke's breath catches in her throat when she turns around with the bowl of water in her hands. She doesn't move and Lexa sees a flash of it then. The image crystal clear in her memory. The image from another time and yet not.

Clarke breathless before her.

A goodbye written all over her face even before she said it.

Lexa was done even then. There would have been no other for her. Even if what occurred after had not and they had parted that day as intended. Clarke stole her heart right out from under her and Lexa didn't blame the thief at all.

It is almost the same expression now, but Clarke's eyes hold no remorse. No silent apology.

Only hope.

Light.

Clarke shakes off her haze and closes the space between them again, dipping the cloth in the water as she approaches. She flusters.

"Clarke," Lexa says gently, spotting the moment she remembers herself. Cheeks flush red and Lexa wears a small smile. She sits back in the chair behind her slowly and waits, expecting the damp cloth to be placed in her hands.

Ever full of surprises, Clarke doesn't relinquish the cloth but leans in and begins the process of wiping away the last remaining markers of  _Heda._  Shaky breaths alight Lexa's skin as an unsure hand tries to find the best motion. Her own heart beats loudly in her chest and rings in her ears. She studies Clarke's face. Brow knit with concentration, lip between her teeth, the blush that doesn't fade but gets stronger the longer they stay in this space together. Both of them struggling to breathe properly. Both of them too shy to look each other in the eye.

Their fight feels like years ago now.

Lexa stays as still as she can, not willing to give the skittish bird in her hands the opportunity to take flight.

Clarke's throat bobs and she releases her lip, licking it gently. "I never thought about how hard this was to get off before." She drops the cloth in the water and swirls it a few times, black seeps into the clear liquid. It's so familiar to Lexa, the motion. The practice. It became methodical after a long day, brought peace with each new inch of clean skin revealed below the mask.

There is a moment, a brief second, when Clarke's glance meets Lexa's, and everything changes. Shifts into place. Lexa reaches up and grabs Clarke's hand gently in her own, not breaking eye contact. Both of them barely breathing.

The air is ripe, full. Lexa's heartbeat rings in her ears- Clarke doesn't look away. Lexa runs her hand over Clarke's and takes the bowl of water from the other setting it down.

She leans her cheek ever so slightly into Clarke's hand and Clarke blushes harder. A dusting so pure and pink on her cheeks Lexa swoons with it. Her body sways closer and Lexa's free hand finds its way to her waist, fluttering lightly before landing. Her fingers flexing on their own at Clarke's sharp intake of breath.

She doesn't know if she's allowed to want this yet. To have it. If  _they're_  allowed to.

Now that she's back. Now that the mantle is hers and hers alone. It is not what is expected of her. Of  _Heda._  It never has been and it held her back for days in that bunker. What could be without duty. What life could look like.

But she doesn't care any longer. She is Lexa _kom Trikru_ returned from the dead. She will bend the world the way she wants to. In this.

For this.

She is tired of wanting. Of no longer having.

Clarke is here. Wants her. Still.

_Loves_  her. Still.

Lexa will take it. Will recreate the world with Clarke's hand in hers. Beside her.  _With_  her.

They will make it their own whatever comes next.

Standing up slowly and closing the small barely there gap between their bodies even more, Lexa doesn't let Clarke look away. Clarke's hand slides around her shoulder now keeping her close. Emotions swim in crystalline eyes that soften with every breath. Lexa doesn't move until she sees it on Clarke's face - longing. A hand curls around her neck and Lexa's squeezes Clarke's waist again, pulling her ever closer. Their noses brush together and the jolt is electric down her spine. And then lips are against hers, soft and warm and inviting.

It wakes up the final piece inside her. The part that stayed hidden and dark, even upon confessions of love. Not wanting to come out of the odd dream state she was in down in the bunker. The part of her she shoved away when Clarke rose from their shared bed and pulled her clothes back on, not looking at Lexa as she did so. The space that sewed itself together when Clarke finally turned around with that same sad smile of goodbye all over again.

The small area of her soul that never belonged to Lexa. Not really.

It thrums alive now with a blistering energy. Lexa changes the angle of her lips, chasing more of it. More of Clarke.

They move back towards the bed. It's a slow tangle of limbs and lips and hands, progress hardly made. Lexa will not be without Clarke's lips on her own, will not part from her mouth. Clarke doesn't seem keen on the idea either if her grip around Lexa's shoulders is anything to go by. Her mouth demanding, her tongue teasing. Her throat purring. She does falter when her knees hit the corner of the bed, and a small giggle spills from her mouth as she clings to Lexa even still.

Reluctantly, Lexa pulls away. They study each other in the candlelight. Soft. Glowing. Lexa runs her fingers over Clarke's cheek, her jaw.

"I love you, Clarke." Eyes widen and scan her face, disbelieving still that this is the truth of it all. "I love you, even when you infuriate me."

A sly smile crosses kiss-bruised lips. "Well, that's good because I'm sure it will be a regular occurrence."

She leans closer and brushes her nose against Lexa's. "If you leave again I won't survive it."

Lexa pulls her into a searing kiss. It's all she can do to calm Clarke down, to pour the hurricane of feeling she has into Clarke. Trying to make her feel it. A shirt comes off and then another.

Soon they are almost bare, almost skin to skin against the lush furs of the bed.

Their kisses have slowed. They take their time- gentle explorations of mouths. Lips and tongues. Moans and whimpers and sighs. All the things they never had time for before. All the things they never allowed themselves to savor.

Savor they do now.

It goes no further than that. Slow, languid kisses. Deep looks, hands twined together.

Shy, wonderful, lazy smiles.

Being here with Clarke, in this way with her, has healed Lexa more than any treatment could.

There is a lightness in her being. Full and bright.

She looks down at Clarke, places a gentle kiss on her cheek, and settles down on her side.

"I could feel it," she whispers, grabbing Clarke's hand again, pulling so their bodies face each other in the large bed.

"Feel what?"

"Everything you felt for me." She squeezes. "When I took the Flame again… the same thing happened as the first time. A rush went through me. Memories that aren't mine, all the way back to  _Pramheda._  But you were there. And you were different. Like a beacon. I felt it all- the overwhelming grief and pain and love." Clarke inches closer. "I felt how much you loved me."

"Love," Clarke corrects and Lexa's heart races away. "I felt it, too. As soon as the flame was in my head I felt  _you_ , Lexa. I wish you would have said it…"

"I should have. I didn't want to make your decision harder... I didn't want you to stay only for me."

"I wouldn't have stayed." It is another bare truth in a night full of them. A sad smile touches Clarke's lips, eyes hold an apology that doesn't need to be said.

"No, you wouldn't have." Lexa wouldn't have asked her to. Wouldn't have stayed either.

"What else did you see?"

"Brief glances. I didn't pry. Yours were the hardest memories to ignore. I saw myself protecting you- I saw the City of which you speak. It was a burst of emotion. Of love. I couldn't stop those from flooding my mind." She leaves out the part where it made her collapse to her knees, barely able to breathe. Her hands shaking and a cold sweat breaking over her body.

Clarke kisses her softly again. The candles have all but burnt out and the darkest night can be seen out the window.

"It must have been difficult for you to pull yourself away, to destroy what needed to be destroyed."

"You have no idea."

"I'm here now, Clarke." She tugs and Clarke allows herself to be moved. They rearrange their bodies, twisting legs and limbs. Clarke's head steady on Lexa's chest.

"You are," Clarke drops a kiss over her heart. "You're here."

 

Xx

 

The sunlight is bright and streaming on to the bed warming the furs and the bodies beneath them. Clarke is still asleep, her deep even breaths dance along Lexa's skin. She hasn't moved her body all night. Her arm flung protectively across Lexa's chest, her leg over hips. Sweat collects and pools at all the places their skin touches. Lexa's mouth is dry and her muscles are stiff and aching, but she doesn't dare move a muscle.

Clarke has never looked so peaceful.

Lexa allows her eyes to close again, drifting into her daily meditations. Taking note of the birdsong drifting by the window. The sounds of the tower she can hear as life continues on outside the door. The heat that gathers at the base of her back and behind her neck reminding her she's alive, her body is working.

There are no voices in her head even now. The quiet doesn't feel as lonely as it did in the bunker with the  _natblida_. Instead, it feels like a new page, a new chance.

If Lexa is going to remake the world with Clarke by her side, it will be her job and hers alone.

There is a part of her that wonders if she's still asleep, still dreaming. Still in the bunker after all. If any of this is real.

This picture, this moment in time, is what she longed for so deeply she all but buried it inside. Didn't think it possible. Didn't believe it to be true, even after Clarke softened toward her, supported her.

Even when she took a deep breath and asked, so plainly, so openly, for Clarke to stay on this side of the barricade.

Lexa has never been allowed to want before. Not as  _Lexa_. But, she will want this and do everything she can to have it. To earn it.

There have only been a few things she's allowed herself to want. To dream of. Clarke Griffin stands among them as a fresh breath of air. A new beginning.

Clarke stirs after a while and Lexa moves her hand softly along her bare back. She hums and rearranges her limbs, moving onto her back and stretching with a groan. Now that Lexa is free to move as she chooses, her body does not obey her.

She turns her head on the pillow to wait for Clarke to open her eyes. It nearly stops Lexa's heart all together again when she does. Her gaze warm and soft and all the things Clarke tries to hide.

All of them right there on display for Lexa.

Lexa is in love with her.

"That was the first time I slept through the night in weeks," she offers quietly, her voice scratchy with sleep and deeper than usual. It punches Lexa in the gut. Clarke reaches out a hand and pulls Lexa onto her side mirroring their position last night.

They didn't do anything but kiss and yet she cannot wipe the giddy smile off her face. Clarke's hair is a mess and her eyes are shining and Lexa doesn't want to leave this bed. It is different waking up with Clarke. Having this much uninterrupted time with her. Being this  _intimate_  with her. With anyone.

Lexa is so used to the casual intimacy that comes with her life aided and assisted and hardly ever alone, but this. This is special.

"You make for a fine blanket," she teases. "I'm glad you slept."

"Me too. How do you feel?" Clarke's hand touches the scar that has yet to fully heal on her belly. The light touch on her skin sends goosebumps rising and a shiver through Lexa. Clarke's eyebrow ticks up.

"Stiff. Tired. But better."

At her words, Clarke starts to investigate more fully until Lexa pulls her hand away and kisses inquisitive fingers. "No more doctoring, not right now."

There's a small tap at the door and Clarke groans. "I'm surprised they waited this long."

"Perhaps they didn't."

"Is that… will that be a problem?" Her brow creases.

"Clarke, they won't enter my quarters while I am sleeping. Not unless there's an emergency. I only mean they may have knocked before."

"These aren't your quarters," Clarke counters and Lexa smirks.

"And all of my attendants have been chosen because they are discreet and trustworthy." Her stomach growls in protest before Clarke can launch another counterpoint. "Trust me?"

"You know that I do," she stops and looks off to the side contemplating her next point. Lexa watches it all play out. "We haven't talked about it, though."

"We haven't." Before, there would have been worry. Hesitation. Uncertainty. But, that all fled when she woke back up.

She knows what Clarke is to her, and more importantly, she could feel it and read it all over Clarke's face.

This is love as she's never known.

"If I remember correctly, you prefer the not talking part."

It takes Clarke a blink before she's in on the secret. The joke. She softens immediately and a sly smile crosses her lips. Lexa kisses her then. "It is a new world now, Clarke. Are you ready?"

 

Xx

 

The morning passes in a blur that Lexa only wishes to slow down. It begins with a quiet breakfast with Clarke in the room, trays of hot food and tea keep coming as if the kitchen staff would like Lexa to remember that they know all of her favorite things. Clarke sits next to her on the small couch in the room, their thighs and knees touching, elbows bumping as they reach for items and taste the offerings. There is a shy, stiltedness to the movements at first. Both of them adjusting to the newness of a night spent together and what the morning brings, but it shakes itself clean off when Clarke nearly spills a cup of the hot tea all over her lap and yelps as she leaps up to miss it causing both of them to laugh.

And just like that, they settle and the gentle rhythm of their interactions finds its footing. They are just like they were before, but new. There is an openness there, an honesty. Clarke looks at her as if she has never looked at her before and Lexa's whole being is singing with it.

Clarke talks to her about sneaking around the tower after hours to visit Lexa and the  _natblida_ in the bunker. About traveling to Luna. About Lincoln and Octavia back in the city.

"I should talk to him," Lexa offers quietly.

"He looked really nervous last night, did you notice?"

"No." She shakes her head and finishes the last bite of oatmeal. "When did they come back?"

"The day I gave you the Flame." Lexa reaches a hand out and squeezes Clarke's knee.

"I'll try to find him today, hopefully the council won't go long."

The look on Clarke's face pulls flutters into Lexa's belly and they both laugh again. It's light. It was never light before.

"What next?"

"With the council?" Clarke nods and Lexa leans back in the seat, already tired from the machinations of the ambassadors and their posturing. "We will have to do something about the line of succession." She sighs heavily. "Plus, Jaha and his cohorts should be handled."

Lexa is expecting Clarke to argue but she nods. Leans back and picks up Lexa's hand to toy with. It is so much like it was before. Lexa's rooms were the only ones Clarke could relax in, once she was over her anger with Lexa. Where she was her most unguarded. Her most Clarke.

Where Lexa fell even more in love with her.

It hasn't changed, even with all of the rest.

Lexa twists her fingers between Clarke's and holds her hand, smiling as she does so. It's so simple, and yet. It is everything.

"My mother has some ideas for their punishment. It was what I thought- they did not all agree with Pike, or with Jaha, but the chaos of it all swept everything up."

"We'll work through it, Clarke. Skaikru is the thirteenth clan, that hasn't changed."

Clarke's posture changes, her shoulders relax and Lexa hears the steadying breath she takes. They are interrupted again by a knock at the door before Lexa can add anything else. Indra enters and greets them both, looking unsurprised to find them together. "Your tour of the city begins soon,  _Heda_ ," Indra reminds her. "Luka has been waiting for you."

And just like that, Lexa's routine begins again.  _Heda_ 's work is never done.

 

Xx

 

There is not as much damage to the city as she was made to believe. Structurally, the buildings closest to the tower were the hardest hit, but over time they have proved the most stalwart. Most of the debris has already been cleaned up and what could be fixed easily has been or is underway. Indra walks in step with Lexa but does not speak unless Lexa asks a question, allowing her to experience this without opinion.

The markets are all open and Lexa takes the time to stop at each stall, greet the vendors and assure them that she is okay. That she is alive and well. She spends longer than she ever has at each booth, comforting the anxieties that are poured out from her people. Shaking hands and accepting gifts. Overwhelmed with the gratitude and love she can feel radiating off of everyone she meets.

The markets have always been a place to connect with her people. To offer silent support and allow them to see her.

But, this. This is a wave she was not prepared for and it has torn her asunder. There are tears that prick behind her eyes, but she does not let them show. Does not let them gather. Words catch in her throat and she forces them loose. Her hands tremble but she just grips harder.

Her people were afraid. Grieving. Lost.

It all washes over her with their relief and happiness now. The cries of disbelief and the laughter.

Each new emotion floods into Lexa and expands inside of her. This is what being alive truly means.

This is what being  _Heda_ truly means.

Not just the councils and ambassadors, trade routes or battles. Not negotiations or judgments.

No, this.

Steadying her people. Providing the support, the guidance. Being the light for them that shines in the dark.

In good times and bad.

This.

This is what Lexa lives for.

This is what she came back for.

 

Xx

 

The large pieces of the Ark look awkward crammed into the worn buildings of Polis. Out of place but, like the bunker Lexa woke up in,  _not_. These machines meld together their worlds. What was before and what is now.

What was sky and what is ground.

What has come together to forge the new world.

A tenderness spreads through her at the thought. She is looking at a physical representation of everything her relationship with Clarke is. The mishmash way it fits to create something unique.

Something real.

Something that needs both pieces to function.

Abby has her machines, her drugs, her tools. Along with the techniques Nyko and the healers have been taught for years and years, they can help those who suffer. There are new treatments now, and new diagnoses that were lost to those that survived on the ground. That knowledge came crashing down with the Ark, too. Just like everything else. There is much to be learned from the  _Skaikru_ \- much to be shared. Their history is one that is both aged and new all at once.

Together they can piece it all into one new world.

There are so many aching bodies crammed inside the old healer's building that it has been stretched to the surrounding areas. There are healers she recognizes moving through the space, and many she doesn't. It is easy to designate those that came from the Ark and those that belong to the ground.

When Nyko greats her, the grip on her arm is tight. She can see the longing he has to pull her into a firmer embrace, the way the worry strips from his face, though the bags around his eyes remain.

"I'd like to greet those who are able and willing," she states. Abby looks up from a patient and her eyes, so much like Clarke's, narrow for a brief second.

"Of course,  _Heda_ ," Nyko answers and guides her through the building to the quietest beds. To those who look better than most. Again the reception is warm and full of relief. She greets as many as she can, briefly. Moving from corner to corner, a prickling on the back of her neck no matter where she is.

It's not unfamiliar - to be watched. Judged. And yet, when she's finally in front of Abby and greeting her, the judgment carries new weight. The weight of a disapproving parent.

"Doctor Griffin, thank you for all that you've done here. Your technology has enabled us to help many more people, and we would be at a loss for understanding the true damage done by Jaha."

"All in a day's work, Commander. We appreciate you coming down, but as you can see we have our hands full." It is so much like Clarke that Lexa would probably find it amusing in any other circumstance.

Indra shifts beside her at the dismissal. Abby's eyes flicker over and she takes a step back. "I'm sorry, it's been a long week. I would like to discuss a few things with you when you have the time."

"Yes, I think that would be good for everyone. We have much to discuss now that the fighting has ended. I can set aside time for you tomorrow."

"Very well, Commander."

She offers a polite smile, noting that Abby has not stopped studying her. "We'll send someone to escort you. If you need any supplies or assistance here, please send word."

"Thank you." Abby's response is abrupt and to the point - nothing about their interaction here has softened her, though Lexa would like to believe it is only the busy setting causing it.

It's only once they're out of earshot and back on the street that Indra chuckles. "You have a lot of ground to make up there,  _Heda._ "

" _Shop of_."

It doesn't stop Indra's laugh though. It's true, and she knows it. She will have a lot of work to do to win the trust of Clarke's mother, to be proven worthy of holding onto her daughter's heart.

 

Xx

 

They return to the Tower, Lexa tired and aching and growing hungrier with every step. She still has a council meeting to attend, but not before lunch. Luka sends word to the kitchens as soon as they're back to bring lunch to Clarke's rooms. But, Lexa can hear the fight as soon as she turns into the hallway. Raised voices, barbed words. Anger that sounds like heartbreak.

"Cut the fucking crap, Clarke, okay? This is real life… you can't just keep doing this to people!"

"Doing what, Raven? What am I doing that you find so disgusting you felt the need to come all the way up here and scream at me?"

"Lying," Raven roars. Lexa has never heard her like this. She approaches the closed doorway with caution, not wanting to barge in on whatever is coming to a head in there even though she can. "Not talking, brushing people off, you name it. Did you even know Murphy was gone?"

"Gone? What are you talking about, Raven?"

"Oh, now you care? I came up here to tell you that the other day and you told me to mind my damn business while you skulked off. Guess we know why now," Raven snaps.

"You don't have a right to know  _everything_  that goes on! Fuck. You're  _so damn nosy_  all the time, sitting there like you know better than everyone. I know it's hard to imagine but there are some things in this world that don't include you." Clarke does not hold back and then all communication stops. The eerie silence barely has time to sink in, Lexa can picture them staring each other down. Both so free-spirited and wild, she'd no sooner come between them than two wolves fighting over the last strip of meat on a carcass.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Raven's boots thud loudly and Lexa steps back from the doorway about to be discovered. "Sorry for caring about you and your wellbeing after you went through hell. It's not like I don't know anything about the City of Light, but whatever, I guess." The door swings open quickly and Raven startles on her crutches. "Of fucking course," she mutters under her breath as she bodily moves by Lexa. "Great timing, as always. Welcome back, Commander." She practically snarls and if it was any other moment Lexa would respond. Raven makes her retreat mumbling angrily under her breath. If Clarke has spotted Lexa in the doorway, she hasn't made it known. Lexa peers inside cautiously and spies Clarke on the bed with her head in her hands.

"Clarke?"

She startles and looks up, ready to fight until she sees who entered. "Hi," she breathes out and stands up, fidgeting with her shirt. "How was your tour?"

"Are you alright?"

The door behind her closes and they are alone again until the food will arrive.

"Oh, you heard that?"

"Everyone heard that."

"I'm… fine." Her voice wavers. "Things with Raven have been… weird."

"What did you fight about?" Lexa removes her pauldron and her overcoat and slings them on a chair. She does not have long to relax, but she will make the most of it. She rolls her shoulders and studies Clarke.

"You." It's a soft admission, and Clarke shrugs. "She's upset about you."

"A running theme today. Can I ask why?" She strips off her weapons and sits on the couch, in the same spot she did during breakfast. Clarke begins pacing the room. "Clarke?"

She huffs. "She's upset that I didn't tell her you were alive. There's -" she lets out a frustrated growl, "there is a lot there, okay?"

Lexa nods as Clarke spins out further.

"When you were… gone… Raven was with us for a while. She had taken a chip and she was under Alie's control. She wanted the Flame - tried to get it from me. She was being tortured from the inside out, but she said terrible, terrible things. Did terrible things. She knew exactly how to twist her words… she knew about you."

"Clarke, if she-"

"Please, Lex." Her voice is enough to stop Lexa from speaking, but the pleading look in Clarke's eyes causes a stir of emotion through her.

"She knew that I was with you, that I tried to save you. She knew about us. Somehow she was able to overcome Alie's control and she helped us close down the City of Light even though her pain is back and her leg is more fucked up than before. It's really bad and she's having a rough time and I haven't been a good friend to her. I haven't supported her. Or Murphy. Shit."

"You cannot be everything to everyone, Clarke." Lexa tries to be steady, to be calm, but her mind is moving from beat to beat and all she wants to do is touch Clarke. Ground her in something besides the guilt running rampant through her head.

"I  _know_ ," Clarke yells. Takes a few more steps and steadies herself. "I know. But, Raven isn't just anyone. I was so preoccupied with my own grief and then with helping you wake up that I… I didn't have enough space for her." She collapses on the couch. "I just didn't, and she's angry and I get it."

"How is that being upset about me?"

"What?"

"You said she was upset about me. Because I love you?"

"Oh, no." She shakes her head. "Well, maybe. But, no… she's pissed that I didn't tell her you were alive."

"Why?"

"She caught me sneaking off and she knew I wasn't sleeping here during the night and I lied about it."

"What else would you have done?"

"Nothing. She'll understand it, she just needs a few days to cool off. Raven always needs to feel her feelings for a minute before the logic brain can kick in."

"She sounds like Anya." A fondness and a sadness mix together at the thought.

"Believe it or not, I think they would have gotten along pretty well." They share a smile and a huff of laughter. Clarke bends her body and relaxes more into Lexa's side. "How are you feeling?"

"Are you going to ask me that every time you see me? And if so, for how long?"

Clarke pokes at her thigh and Lexa allows a smile to overcome her. There is a moment, an urge, to kiss Clarke. To forget the rest of the day, her grumbling stomach, her schedule, and just pull Clarke to her lips and get lost. Sink into them as she did last night, let her hands wander while her mouth takes the time it craves.

It is lost before it can develop, almost as quickly as it came, with the delivery of their lunch from the kitchens, and a reminder about her time.

 

Xx

 

The makeshift throne room is small and cramped, and though it is cold and windy outside, warm enough to keep everyone on edge. Beads of sweat have slowly been forming and sliding down Lexa's back under her thicker winter clothes and armor almost since she sat down. They are nowhere near finished with what remains of the time Lexa was away - somehow the ambassadors have more grievances than she imagined, though thankfully none of them relate to her back in her position of power.

" _Heda_ , the question of  _Skaikru_ 's defectors remains unsettled, we had discussed it previously with  _Wanheda_  but the talks went nowhere, as you can imagine."

_Trishana Kru_  has always been the most obstinate clan. Unlike the oftentimes openly hostile  _Azgeda_ , the ambassadors from  _Trishana Kru_ have mastered the art of passive aggression. Questioning Lexa in ways that defy logic and rational thought, though somehow convincing those in the room that they should be heard and agreed with. Many, many of her most stressful meetings have come down to standoffs with  _Trishana Kru_. The unsurprising rivalry. Their sacred lands, as recognized by all other clans, are some of the most holy in all of the _kongeda_. Many of the past commanders were Trishana blood, and the  _Trishana_  novitiate Lexa defeated to become  _Heda_ was considered one of the strongest choices to make it out of the conclave.

The question is an immediate gauntlet thrown down and Lexa struggles not to look at Clarke, though she can see how the other girl shifts in her chair.

"While your concern is noted, I would remind you all that  _Wanheda_  performed dutifully as steward during my absence and, though she has a background that not all of you understand, she is a knowledgeable leader that I trust with my life," Lexa states plainly and pauses for full effect. "With that being said,  _Skaikru_  is still the thirteenth clan and an equal member of this coalition. Tomorrow I will meet with their assembled leaders and discuss a plan for punishment that includes our historical practices for treason."

"Surely as traitors to the coalition they should immediately be taken into custody and executed, as honor demands." There it is. The dig. The move.

"Honor demands that in instances like this one, we discuss what is to be done with the clan leaders. Must I remind you of your very own skirmish that was squashed at the beginning of the coalition, Ithon?"

His face colors and just like that the game is done. "No,  _Heda_."

"Does anyone else have any questions before this matter is put to rest for the day?" Even the voices in her head remain silent. Have been since the argument with Clarke last night.

Have they gone for good?

"No, but I would like to offer another outcome," Roan says, standing and taking the floor. "Pike and his people killed many of our  _Azgeda_ warriors - their part of the ship crashed in our territory and they did not hesitate."

"Your people didn't hesitate either," Clarke responds coolly.

"No, they did not. The culture of  _Azgeda_ has long been poisoned by vicious rulers like my mother. It is a culture I'm trying to change. I believe it can come, slowly but surely. I would like to propose that those who stand trial be offered the chance to come to  _Azgeda_  territory and work on rebuilding the land of the people they attacked."

It is not what Lexa was expecting him to say and the surprise quiets her for a moment.  _Azgeda's_  ruthlessness has been well documented through the ages, and a constant for Lexa to deal with. What Roan is offering now...

"I will think on this offer and discuss it with  _Wanheda_  and the other  _Skaikru._ "

Roan dips his head and sits staring pointedly at Clarke, who looks just as surprised as Lexa at the generous offer. She's not sure if it comes with strings, dealings with  _Azgeda_ , with Nia, always came with strings. In his brief tenure as King, Roan has proven different. But, it could be a ruse. She seeks out Clarke's face for confirmation and receives a small nod. They will discuss this tonight, on their own away from prying eyes and before taking the matter to Abby and Kane.

The thought zings through her. That Clarke will find her when this session is over, that Clarke will take off her boots and share a meal with her. A bed with her.

It is thrilling.

Even in all of her wildest dreams and plans, Lexa never would have pictured it. It was not like this with anyone else, but Clarke… Clarke is an equal. Did not meet her as a subject. Is a storm of fire that Lexa has yet to learn and one she cannot wait to.

When the session is concluded and all the ambassadors stand to leave, Lexa beckons Clarke to stay. She stands from her chair and waits until the room is empty and all the guards are posted outside, before approaching Lexa. They walk closer to the windows for more privacy as if they aren't completely alone.

"I wanted to discuss Roan's offer with you - do you think he means it truthfully?"

She doesn't hesitate to respond. "Yes."

"I'd like to hear your reasons," she offers calmly. An opening to discussion. To Clarke's opinion, her mind.

Clarke lets out a bone-weary sigh and her body slumps as if the weight of the past weeks is back on her shoulders. "We've both seen enough of this war - we went through hell. I trust Roan - our people both have images to rehab, opinions to flip. And,  _Skaikru_  has seen enough death. There aren't that many of us."

"There are thousands of you," Lexa offers.

"Not as many as there used to be, and we are all that's left. I know Pike, Jaha and even Bellamy did terrible things. They deserve their punishment, but I…"

"And what if you were still in the sky?"

Clarke's eyes harden. She looks off to the side as if contemplating or remembering past lives. "If we were still in the sky they'd be floated." It is a terrible admission and Clarke wars with it.

"So why should they not face execution here - should we not set an example?"

"Is that who you came back to be?" Cutting. A challenge met with a challenge.

"That was not the question, Clarke."

"But it is something, isn't it?"

"Simply because there are fewer of you than there used to be does not matter in this issue. Pike and Bellamy slaughtered my army with technology not used on us in that capacity. Jaha undermined everyone's abilities to think for themselves. It was worse than the Mountain because it was a larger scale, and it was vicious. If the Mountain was our greatest enemy for the things they did-"

"I know, I know, it's awful, Lexa." The vastness of it all is alive in her voice. Her shoulders slump even further and she closes her eyes.

"What do you think your mother will say?" Lexa asks quietly, wanting to change the subject. Wanting to chase away that heaviness in Clarke's voice.

Clarke huffs. "She had my father floated. Jaha culled hundreds on the ship to save the air supply. Marcus… who knows what he would have done."

"We can offer several solutions: death, exile to  _Azgeda_ , or banishment to the dead zone."

Clarke nods. "How do you and the clan leaders usually come to agreement on this?" Her tone is still harsh but she shifts closer to Lexa.

"It depends on the severity of the crime. I allow the leaders to discuss what options exist, if any. Though usually, the meeting is more of a formality so they have time to process what will occur."

"So, usually it's just straight up execution then."

"Yes."

Clarke takes a deep breath and looks down at her hands. "Blood must have blood."

"Yes." Lexa waits a moment. "But, that may not always be the case going forward. I meant what I said that day.  _Jus drein no jus daun_."

When Clarke looks up at her again she doesn't breathe. Clarke studies her face, her tells, and Lexa keeps herself as open and as vulnerable as she can. She does still mean it. Blood cannot always have blood. Not in this new world. Not in the path forward.

"That's a start," Clarke says. Relaxing just an inch, but enough for Lexa to lean forward and grab her hand.

 

Xx

 

She waits until they're almost finished with dinner. Both of them clearly exhausted from the day they had attacked what was brought up to eat as soon as the trays were set down. Clarke has still not acclimated to the style of food in the tower and makes little pleasing sounds as she eats. Lexa's ears blush and her heart stumbles.

She is tired but also aching. Her body still not used to the heavy armor or the rigors of her full schedule. This isn't even a  _full_  schedule yet. She wills herself to heal faster- though by all rights, she is already better than anyone else would have been in the same situation.

"Clarke?"

"Mmf," the acknowledgment comes around a bite of bread. Crumbs still decorate Clarke's lips as she chews, her eyes bright. Lexa thinks about kissing them off for a second, focused so intently she loses her train of thought. "Lex?"

"Yes, sorry." She shakes herself from the haze. They'll have time for that later… hopefully. "I wanted to discuss -" she trails off. Clarke has inched closer, eyes trained on Lexa's lips. "I wanted to discuss seeing…"

Clarke's eyebrow curls up. The effect her presence has on Lexa sinking in and sinking in fast.

"Yes?" she teases.

"I need to," she stops and closes her eyes for a blink, re-focusing. There will be time for kissing soon. Very soon. "I'd like to visit Lincoln."

"I think that would be a good idea," Clarke answers. Her voice is low and her breath falls against Lexa's skin.

"I have a favor for you," she says quietly. Once this conversation is over, she can finally lean in.

"Mmm?" Clarke's eyes trail off and down Lexa's jaw and her neck. Lexa can almost feel the kisses there as if pulled from Clarke's own brain and painted onto her skin.

"Would you go ahead of me and assess the situation?"

She sputters with a laugh. "Are you telling me the big bad commander is afraid of something?"

"It's not fear, Clarke. I don't want to make things worse and you can read Octavia better than I can."

"She's fine."

Lexa leans back and puts space between them again. "And you can tell that from?"

"If she was really still pissed off she wouldn't be here. Or she would have come to yell at me by now."

"You seem very certain of this, Clarke."

"Trust me?"

"Have you seen them already?"

"That wasn't the question. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

 

Xx

 

They wait until they're under the furs this time. Until they've cleaned up, gotten ready for bed. They wait. An unspoken decision.

Until there are only a few candles scattered around the room and the fire in the hearth is steady for the night.

They both slide under and face each other. A new reality.

A new routine.

They wait.

Smile.

A shyness creeps over Lexa again. Unnecessarily and unwanted. But there nonetheless.

Clarke's hand lightly brushes her arm and goosebumps erupt down her spine, spreading forth like a streak of lightning.

Even the simplest touch from Clarke makes her feel things she never thought herself capable of.

They inch closer and Clarke waits. Waits for Lexa to make the move. To calm down and get her nerves under control. To close the gap.

When she does, Clarke's lips soft and warm and wanting against hers, it is better than she remembered. With a sigh of contentment, Clarke's lips open immediately and Lexa's heart takes flight. She rolls herself over, on top of Clarke and deepens the kiss, savoring the way Clarke relaxes against her. The way Clarke's body becomes pliant, how hands thread into her hair, careful with the scar tissue at the base of her neck.

Clarke moans and Lexa's arms shake. Hands crawl under the thin shirt Lexa has on, lightly touching the skin and gripping against her waist. She wants this. She wants it so badly. Arousal almost taking over all rational thought.

Their kisses grow messy, sloppy. Tired. Clarke pulls her mouth away to breathe and Lexa traces along her jaw, breathing her in. The familiar scents of Clarke.

"Lex?" Her voice is scratchy and quiet.

The habit Clarke has taken of shortening her name sends another ripple of emotion through her. Lexa stops only to look at her - finding her pupils wide and black. Wanting clear on her face.

Clarke bites her lip, swollen already. And, Lexa wants. She  _wants_.

But there is an ache still alive in her muscles, and the long day seeps back in - biting at her arousal. She smiles at Clarke, shifts off of her and cradles her face.

"Not yet," Clarke whispers. "When you're ready."

Lexa drops a gentle kiss on her lips and curls into her, fully succumbing to this wonder in her bed.

She falls asleep before she can even think about it.

 

Xx

 

Clarke has only just left their rooms when Maryl enters softly. She looks rested, finally, and must have heeded Lexa's command to only return to her duties when she got some proper sleep.

Keeping the Commander alive in secret and corralling the remaining  _natblida_  is not an easy task.

"You look well, Maryl," Lexa greets her with a smile and relaxed deference. She owes her life to this young woman. They all do.

"Sha,  _Heda_. I had a restful few days but I am ready to resume my duties." She bows her head and steps closer to where Lexa sits finishing her breakfast. "I assume  _Wanheda_ has been monitoring your health?"

"Annoyingly so, yes."

Lexa would never tease like this with any other healer, any other subject. Not since Gustus or Anya. But, Maryl has earned this. Lexa is at ease with her.

"Can I see for myself?"

"Yes," Lexa says, standing and pulling her shirt up. Maryl's hands are cool as they gently probe her skin but the exam is quick and perfunctory.

"You are doing much better than I would have even thought." She smiles and takes a step back. "Are you still more tired than usual?"

"Unfortunately."

"You know you're fully healed when that subsides," Maryl says, though Lexa knows this to be true. Has been through injury before. Has had Maryl in her ear for weeks.

There is hesitation written all over her face. Lexa pats the cushion next to her and pours another cup of tea in invitation. "Is that all?"

"No,  _Heda_." Maryl sits, her back straight and her shoulders balanced. "The people say you've beaten back death." She locks eyes with Lexa as she sips the warm tea. "With  _Wanheda_  by your side, you're unstoppable. That you've made a deal with Death herself."

"The people love a good story," Lexa waves it away. It's a rumor. A fantasy.

"We both know there is truth to it. You were lucky. Lucky the bullet didn't do more damage. Lucky that I was able to assess you...that  _Wanheda_  packed your wound before I got to you."

"Maryl, it is because of  _you_  that I'm here."

"I know. But- I cannot and will not undercut what Clarke did for you. It is different now, the whispers that follow you, the songs being sung."

Lexa nods. "Is this why you came to see me? To tell me what my people are saying?"

"Yes, so you understand what I ask next. I have no teacher now. There are no other  _fleimkepa_ \- no one else to study with let alone under. Now that your status has been returned and your legend," she pauses for effect, "bolstered, you remain the one to aim for."

"As I always have been, like those who came before me. Nothing has changed." She is right, those that will seek to knock her down will not be dissuaded. Not by her title and not by her relationship with the one who Commands Death. They have always been few and far between but they are there. The seeds in the ground, sown in frustration and discontent by her deeds or statements, slighted by things she will never fully understand. It is nothing she doesn't know or watch for.

In a past life, the Flame would have provided guidance here. It remains ever silent.

"Something has changed, though. You do not have a Master  _Fleimkepa_. You are weak without one- I am weak without one."

Maryl is right. Though Clarke unknowingly took over and acted as Steward out of necessity fulfilling that part of the duty, there is no one to lead the training of the  _natblida_ , or the  _fleimkepa_. There is no one to  _find_ more of them either.

"You're right."

"I would like to finish my training, to earn my position. I do not want the people to question it or you."

Maryl is one of the most sensible people Lexa has ever met, she is continually impressed with the young woman sitting next to her. "Very well, your request has been heard. I will figure something out that will satisfy you and the people."

Maryl finally seems to relax, though not enough to forget who she presently shares company with. She sets her tea down and stands to leave.

"Can you let Luka know I wish to speak with him?" Lexa asks.

" _Sha_." And just as quickly and quietly as she came, Maryl is gone and on to other things.

Luka's presence brings something else to the room entirely. Lexa stands, folding her hands behind her back, ready to begin her day in a more official capacity. "Luka, how are the repairs to the throne room coming?"

They have been holding meetings in the room typically reserved for smaller council and audience. Lexa has only been to the throne room once to observe the damage.

"They are almost finished,  _Heda_. By the end of the week."

"Good. Who have you assigned to Clarke?"

"Matias,  _Heda_."

Matias is young but fierce. Clarke is in good hands should she ever need it. " _Mochof_ , Luka." She stands up, needing to get ready for what comes next. "The task I gave you yesterday?"

"It was as you said,  _Heda_."

Lexa nods and makes for the corner of the room where her coat is hanging. "I'll be ready shortly."

 

Xx

 

Clarke is still there when Lexa approaches - Matias waits outside the small abode. Her voice floats out from behind the door and Lexa clears her own throat, somewhat nervous at what comes next.

Luka knocks on the door and moves aside to stand with Matias. Lexa's grip on her sword pommel tightens and her throat feels dry again. The door swings open and a wild looking Octavia meets her.

" _Heda_ ," she says, lowly. A hint of bite.

All these sky people with their attitude. It's frustrating to no end. None of them bother to act afraid of her or her station anymore.

Clarke has made her mark.

"Octavia."

She does not break her gaze from Octavia's demanding and hard one that does not break even when she steps aside and allows Lexa to enter. Lexa forces her eyes straight ahead and enters the cramped kitchen. Lincoln looks like a giant here - crowded in the corner on a stool too small for his large frame. Clarke stands next to him, her eyes soften for a blink in greeting.

She waits until the door closes and Octavia comes back to the group. Lincoln pulls his own mask of indifference down, but Lexa has known him too long and too well not to see the worry behind his eyes.

Octavia flanks his other shoulder and the picture is set. Lincoln framed by his two protectors from the sky. Clarke squeezes his arm and shifts away, closer to Lexa but not quite all the way there. Placing herself in the middle of the room, in the middle of the fray.

" _Hei_ ,  _Heda_." Lincoln's voice is as gentle as always.

"Lincoln." She relaxes her stance but not her guard.

"Glad to see you're well." He offers it genuinely. Octavia crosses her arms beside him. "You're welcome to sit." He gestures to the other stools that surround the table and Lexa takes him up on the offer.

"I came here to let you know that I'm glad you're back in the city, I may have acted a bit too rashly. Your banishment has been formally lifted."

"Wasn't it lifted the second you died?"

Octavia's remark is as cutting as it was expected. Lexa ignores it. "When you're ready, I have an offer for you, if you'd like." She keeps her focus on Lincoln.

"An offer?"

"Yes, one that I will not discuss with you until you decide if you'd like to come back. I don't want to force your hand."

There's a scoff. This time, Lexa glares. Octavia does not seem bothered. Not until Clarke cuts in. "O, seriously?"

"Don't act like you didn't come here to grease the wheels before  _she_  came down."

Clarke doesn't back down for a second. "I won't and I never intended to."

Lincoln's hand falls to Octavia's leg under the table. "Octavia, she is still the Commander and her position deserves respect."

Octavia looks at Lincoln with wide eyes and turns on Lexa. "Do you have  _any_  idea what we went through to get here? What  _she_  went through?" She points at Clarke before making a fist and slamming it on the table. " Lincoln almost died, she barely made it back here to Polis in one piece, the only reason everything didn't fall apart is because of us, because of her."

"Octavia," Clarke barks now. "Enough. She knows what happened, she was informed."

"She was  _informed?_  Bullshit, Clarke. Your acting isn't that great and that pain and heartbreak was real. I don't know what happened but I know it was something big and the only reason you're here today is to save face."

"You're right." Lexa surprises even herself at the admission. She hasn't even hinted at as much with the ambassadors or her guards, but here in this small house, she makes a judgment call. Octavia might not hold any sway with the rest of the  _Skaikru_ , and she may be more of Lexa's people now than ever, but she is the one that needs to be convinced.

For better or worse.

Win her over or deal with another war.

"Excuse me?"

"I said you're right. I won't tell you the details but what transpired over the course of the last few weeks was not ideal. Clarke wasn't acting."

Octavia slumps back. Her eyes bounce between Lexa and Clarke, who looks appropriately rattled as if trying to suss it out.

"Is that it?"

"Yes. Take it or leave it, Octavia. I came here to make amends with Lincoln but I will not be bullied. You're either here with us or you're not. If you're not, you may take your leave again." She chances a look at Clarke and sees surprise all over her face. Clarke has never had this much trouble hiding the truth from her people. Lexa remembers the pain that flooded her body along with Clarke's memories when she took back the Flame. Her heartbreak was all encompassing. "You're a gifted warrior, your skill has surpassed many very quickly. We could use you both. But, this line of questioning ends here and now. I've admitted as much of the truth to you as I am willing. Clarke will spare no further details, and I expect you to honor our trust in you in this."

Her mouth gapes open and she looks at Clarke for a long beat.

"Just think about it, O. Please?" Clarke gets up.

"Do you remember that day? When I told you we had to leave… do you remember?"

Clarke answers on a shaky breath, "yes."

"I think about that day all the time. You kept me waiting so long I had to leave you behind." She doesn't sound angry. More resigned. Contemplative.

"I know, and I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

There is a long pause. Lexa studies Clarke's face, knowing exactly where Clarke was and what she was doing when Octavia was waiting outside. "I am sorry that I hurt you, Octavia. But, I'm not sorry for what I did."

"I had to make a choice when Pike had Lincoln. I didn't understand you staying behind like that until the time came when I had to act and I was angry at you for a while, but. I can't keep holding on to it. Lincoln is here now because of me. It seems like Lexa is here now because of you."

Neither Lexa or Clarke answer but that alone is all the proof Octavia needs.

"I'm willing to think about turning over a new leaf," she offers gruffly.

"Very well, my offer stands. Take as much time as you need to discuss it. Lincoln understands what it all means - to work for me." Lexa stands up and allows herself to inch into Clarke's orbit.

Lincoln shares a glance with Octavia and stands as well, holding out his hand to shake. Lexa grabs his forearm and squeezes, before pulling him into an embrace.

"I'm glad you're okay, Lexa," he whispers just loud enough for her to hear.

"You, too."

They part quickly, but Lexa can feel the bridges strengthening between them.

"I will let you know my answer tomorrow," he states firmly.

When Lexa and Clarke depart it is with a sigh of relief.

"I think that went well," Clarke says drily, leaning into Lexa's space as they walk back to the tower.

Lexa allows herself to scoff a laugh.

 

Xx

 

The sense of accomplishment fades as soon as they head back to the throne room. It is the first time they're allowed back after repairs and Clarke stiffens beside her. Lexa doesn't have to imagine why - the flashes she saw, albeit briefly, from Clarke's mind of that day were enough. Abby, Kane, and Indra will be joining them soon to discuss the fate of Bellamy, Pike and Jaha.

"Will you be alright for the meeting?"

Clarke startles and looks up, eyes wide. She quickly shakes her head, shakes away the memories and nods. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Clarke?"

"I said I'll be fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize it's been a little bit. Seasonal Depression is real y'all. And so is underestimating the amount of words and time it would take to get these two where I needed them to go and be.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> each chapter seems to have magically grown longer than the last. and now, at long last, you shall be rewarded with fluff. yes, that's right. fluff. enjoy!

 

The cold wind whips in her face, biting her skin. She draws her arms close around her chest, leaving the tower before she could grab a coat was stupid. All she could think about was getting out of there. Out of the small room, filled with so much tension she could barely breathe.

The look on her mother's face…

 _No, no. Stop that. Breathe_.

She reaches her destination quickly with anger fueling her stride, and knocks on the door with the heel of her hand, bouncing in the cold and praying they're home.

A sigh of relief leaves her lips before she can even utter a greeting when Lincoln opens the door.

"Back again?" He offers a gentle smile and steps aside so she can enter as quickly as possible.

"Is she here?"

"She just went out to grab a couple of things from the market, but she'll be back soon. She's not one for the market crowd." Another gentle smile on his face. Clarke understands so much why Octavia fell for him so easily. He is a bevy of contradictions all wrapped up in one wonderful person.

"Are you alright, Clarke?"

It takes everything in her to focus on the question and not the argument still spinning in her head. "Yes."

"Do you want to wait? You're more than welcome to. I can get you some tea to warm you up." He moves through the room before she answers and she allows herself to take a deep breath. Just being in his presence is soothing.

He is everything Octavia is not. And yet, they work.

 _It can work_.

She sits in the small chair by the fire and warms her hands. "What was it like before?"

"Before…?"

"The Coalition. Lexa."

He doesn't answer right away, tinkering with a cup, his back to her.

"She doesn't really talk about it, not much. I know bits and pieces, I know it was constant war. I know it was infighting and chaos."

"Then you know it all."

"Do I?"

He finally joins her. Kneels down in front of the fire and places the small pot filled with water near the flame. "Nothing felt safe, or steady. There was brutality on every corner - sometimes you couldn't even trust the members of your own clan… there were spies everywhere. The  _Heda_  before Lexa tried and things started to get better but."

"Even with her here and with the coalition things still seem brutal."

"Maybe to you -- maybe to your people. But, what is brutality? At least we all knew what stakes we were up against. Your people made a habit of shoving children beneath floorboards and sending people into space when they broke a law."

Clarke's head falls. It's the same argument she's had with Lexa, the same argument she has with herself. "I know."

"Octavia said that being here feels like a new life and a new chance for your people, and it can be, but in order for that to happen you have to be okay with what is demanded of the society here."

"You've fought against some of the rules and traditions yourself, Lincoln."

Something crosses his face and he sits back to look at her better. "I have, and I've paid for it. I've chosen which ones to believe in and which ones need to change. But, some of the things your people do, some of the things you ask for are unheard of. Patience is crucial, I remind O of that every day."

"I thought she wanted to distance herself from us as much as possible," Clarke mutters.

"You'd be surprised."

The door opens before they can continue and Octavia's eyes grow wide and then dark as they find Clarke sitting in her home. "Again?"

"That's what Lincoln said. Apparently you guys aren't used to visitors." Clarke stands and wipes her palms on her legs.

"Not ones that come with orders."

Clarke sighs. "It's about your brother."

Octavia's face falls, then hardens so quickly Clarke would have missed the vulnerability if she wasn't looking for it.

"Execution?"

"Maybe."

Octavia steps closer. "Maybe? Maybe doesn't seem like the Commander's style." Her eyes scan up and down Clarke's body, the implication not lost on Clarke at all.

"You're right."  _Blood must not have blood_. "It's one of several options on the table."

"Options," she pauses and cocks her head, pulling off her coat. Clarke doesn't miss how she moves closer to Lincoln. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Clarke takes a deep breath and sits back down not willing to test the newly mended fences with her friend. "That… among execution, the three _skaikru_ members who acted outside the interests of, and in danger to, the Coalition could face different outcomes."

"Okay, so why are you here?"

"My mother and Kane met with Lexa today to discuss what would happen next… they didn't get very far." The argument still rings in her head, her thoughts not any clearer than they were when she stormed out of the tower.

"That doesn't explain why you're here, Griffin."

"I want to know what your vote is."

"You want to know if I want to see my brother executed? No. But I didn't want to see Lincoln executed either and that's almost what happened when Pike got in his head."

"I don't want to see him executed either, but I… I know Kane and Jaha and even my mother had to make these decisions in the sky but we are here now… there has to be another way."

"They're not the ones making the decision." Octavia's voice takes on a different tone. A new quality. One that mirrors Lincoln's. One that holds wisdom not gained from their time in the stars. "My brother acted all on his own. So did Pike. So did Jaha. They threatened our lives on the ground with every word and every action and they killed hundreds."

Clarke nods. Remembers the way the smoke mixed with the early morning mist at Kaltaka. Lexa's stricken face. Indra's blood, fear. Anger.

"There is also banishment. Or they could go to Azgeda and help rebuild there."

"If you came here for me to vote, I don't have one. He's my blood but he is no longer my brother. Not anymore."

It is Lincoln who speaks next. "That's not why you came here is it, Clarke?"

"No." She looks up, tears threatening to spill over when she sees the look on his face. "I needed to know you'd be okay." It's for Octavia.

She tried, so hard. To protect them all.

But some of them didn't want her protection.

Some of them wanted to be lost.

"Regardless of what's happened, he's not anyone I know anymore and I've come to terms with that."

Clarke takes the statement for what it is: as much of an answer as she's ever going to get.

 

Xx

 

Lexa is stretched out on the couch when Clarke enters the room cold and calmer. Her walk back to the tower felt like a relief.

It's not on her anymore. It's not all on her.

She can feel Lexa's gaze when it lands on her, but Lexa doesn't move or speak. She allows Clarke the space to come in, to warm up. It is more appreciated than Lexa may ever know. She missed the midday meal, staying with Octavia and Lincoln for a while and then wandering around the city before finding her way back to the tower once the afternoon had decided to darken to dusk.

That's what Clarke tells herself anyway. That it was simply too dark and too cold to keep wandering around the city. To keep finding distractions. To keep her from heading back up to her rooms.

It's not that she's simply been away too long. No.

It wasn't the tug at her heart and at her feet that decided her path before she could have the chance to overrule it. That tether, the inextricable tie to Lexa.

No, it was definitely  _not that_.

"There's warm bathwater," Lexa speaks quietly as not to disturb Clarke from her thoughts.

_Except maybe, just maybe, it was._

She studies Clarke as boots fall to the ground one by one. Clarke can feel the cold only now that her limbs have started to warm back up.

"I'll request some tea for you, as well. Hopefully, you don't get sick."

Her eyes.

Her eyes hold so much love inside of them that Clarke's heart stutters in her chest and she wonders if this is what it feels like when everything else falls away.

" _Mochof_ ," she whispers, letting that tether grow even stronger inside her chest.

 

Xx

 

"You left." Lexa's soft voice breaks the silence. She left Clarke alone in the tub for a long while, space not ever anything Lexa is afraid to give her.

Clarke studies Lexa's small movements, how she slides closer to the tub and sits on the edge, just close enough that Clarke could reach out and place a hand on her thigh. "I couldn't be around her like that."

"Your mother made a few excellent points, Clarke. None of this has ever been simple."

It's the truth. As much as Clarke may want to fight it,  _has_  fought it for the better part of the day, it is.

"When I was little I always knew who was talking to me: my mother, the doctor, or the politician." She looks up and Lexa shifts closer, ready to listen. Her eyes are still so deep, so clear. "She had this way of changing everything about herself to fit whichever role she needed to fill at that moment. After you… after you were gone, she was my mother. Only my mother. And I thought that I'd have that now. That the rest of it would fall away because here we could have a life that didn't need to be contained. That didn't have to have parameters and walls and archaic rules. I was wrong." The admission comes without warning and without thought. Spoken into the air and peeled away from Clarke easily. So easily for Lexa. Waiting all day, carried around with Clarke, for just this precise moment.

Lexa's fingers are warm and soft as they run along Clarke's neck, pulling her hair back and away from her face. She leans in and places a tender kiss at Clarke's temple. "We all have our different parts to play," she whispers. "We all contain multitudes."

Clarke sighs around a sob, the well inside her finally breaking inside the warm safety of the bathtub. Inside the warm safety of a life with Lexa. "I know… I know."

Lexa's arm wraps around her shoulders and Clarke clings to her waist soaking the dark black material that always seems to make up Lexa's clothes.

"I think you'll feel better after you've had some food. It's been a long day."

"Lincoln force fed me some snacks."

She can feel the little huff of laughter Lexa expels. "Lincoln has always been focused on food."

"Yes, well, he's basically a house so." They both laugh at Clarke's poor attempt at humor, and she feels lighter for it.

"I believe the kitchen is sending up that soup you like tonight."

"On request?" Clarke pulls away and wipes at her eyes, suddenly hungry.

Lexa makes a face, lips pulling up at one side and her eyes sparkling. "What makes you think they take requests?" She stands up and holds out a hand for Clarke, unwavering.

And deny it all she wants, but Clarke knows the kitchens will prepare anything the Commander wants as long as it's in season.

 

Xx

 

There's a charge to the air that feels different as they finish their meal. Lexa fills in quiet details about her day, but nothing too deep, too serious. She asks Clarke about Lincoln, and even Octavia, and tells a few stories of when she and Lincoln were younger.

Her hip and her thigh are as close to Clarke as they can be on the couch. Her voice as soft as air.

They finish dinner and Clarke drinks two cups of the herbal tea that was brewed for her under Lexa's watchful eye. Someone comes and clears the dishes away and stokes the fire one last time for the night.

And then they're alone.

And Clarke knows how this goes. How it's gone for the past several nights.

Lexa will look at her, will  _study_  her, will get closer to her. And then their lips will meet and hands will grab, and they'll lose themselves in each other.

Every night has been the same.

Kisses.

Deep. Passionate. Plentiful.

Roaming hands, never straying too far.

Whispers and moans and looks.

Every night has unfolded in this way, for hours or only minutes when Lexa has been too tired, too exhausted from healing, from her duties. They'll kiss until they stop - until one or both pull away, not yet willing to cross that line again.

But her mouth is hungrier tonight than it has ever been. And the air around them shimmers with possibility. Clarke's hands tingle as they shift on the couch, Lexa moving onto her lap in sure, swift movements. Strong hands framing Clarke's face, lips never leaving hers, legs bracketing her own on the couch.

She slides her palms up under Lexa's shirt feeling the strong muscles that make up Lexa's back, honed by years and years of training. Of service.

Lexa moans and pulls herself away from Clarke's kiss. "Off."

Clarke obliges quickly, stripping Lexa of her shirt and tossing it over the back of the couch. Her hands move up and down Lexa's back, curving slowly around her ribs, her hips. Her left hand grazes the scar she knows all too well on Lexa's stomach.

"Are you healed?" Clarke is almost too afraid to ask, too afraid to bring reality back to this moment.

This moment she's been waiting for. The one she wasn't sure she'd ever have again.

" _Sha_ ," Lexa's voice is ragged and her eyes are dark. Their mouths meet again and Clarke doesn't dare to breathe.

 

Xx

 

They make it to the bed. Most of their clothes do not. Lexa has barely stopped kissing her, touching her, since it began. She pulls Clarke closer and closer, even though their bodies are as tightly pressed together as they can be.

Her mouth is ravenous. Dark and deep.

Her need washes over both of them and it's different. So different from before.

From their nightly routine.

From their last time like this together.

There is an urgency, but it's not like it was. Not precariously balanced between desire and duty.

It's something wholly unique. Something Clarke has never felt before.

Delicate. Alive.

And yet sure, steady.

Somehow it means more.

Is more.

It's not just a momentary break. A detente. A flash of what life could be like.

Not anymore.

This is life.  _Their_  life.

Clarke comes alive under her touch. With every kiss, every shared glance, every sound they make, more and more of her awakens.

She is not the fallen star igniting Lexa's bed aflame this time.

No. This time it is Lexa herself that is the sun.

Burning and brilliant.

Ravishing.

Devastating.

She thought there would be no coming back after the first time.

She was right.

There was never any way back from this. From them.

She takes care with Lexa. Runs calloused fingers over the scars that line her body. Studies the newest one on her stomach. Her palm tracing circles over it, willing it to fade even more.

Lexa twines her fingers in Clarke's hair and pulls her back up her body, back to her mouth. Flips them over, proving to Clarke again that she can. That she is strong. Healed. Ready for this.

For this, for this.

For Clarke.

 

Xx

 

They lie spent and sweaty, slow smiles pulling at lips. Lexa looks almost shy.  _Almost_. After what she did to Clarke, how she broke her open again and again, she should. After what  _they_ did together… how she was writhing and completely at Clarke's mercy more than once... and yet, there's something else shining in her eyes.

Love, most certainly. But also an air of smugness and satisfaction Clarke has only seen on her a handful of times.

If she wasn't completely spent she'd flip Lexa over and start all over again just to wipe it off and replace it with something else entirely.

_If only I could move._

Lexa's hair curls around her face even more in the heat. The smallest strands cling to her forehead, her neck. Clarke pulls them back and Lexa places soft, delicate kisses on her collarbones and the space where neck meets shoulder in thanks.

It is easy, so easy, to feel reborn.

It wasn't the quick, rushed act of those that know they cannot, should not, but will not be able to live without expressing it once,  _just once_. No, this time set the foundation. Dug deep, deep into the ground below to steady what will only be built upon it.

There was time to savor each other. To truly break open.

Clarke thought she saw it all before when she had the Commander underneath her wishing more than anything it wasn't goodbye. It wasn't even close to what she has now. A sated Lexa with long limbs splayed on top of her.

That tether, that tie, tugs and tugs on Clarke's heart even though Lexa is right here, right here in bed with her, in her arms on top of her.

Tugging and tugging with each beat, each breath, until Clarke wraps both arms around Lexa and squeezes. Pulling her close, close, hiding her head between the pillow and Lexa's wild hair, tears leaking out against her will.

And Lexa, Lexa in all her infinite wisdom, lets herself be held. Holds Clarke back just as tight, her strong arms the safe barrier Clarke needs, craves. Their legs tangle and Lexa hums into the silence until Clarke feels the overwhelming desire to look at her.

When she does Lexa is right there. Right there. Open and vulnerable. Just like Clarke. Just  _for_ Clarke.

Clarke rests her hand on that cheek, that full cheek that's still pink from their last bout of pleasure. Lexa's eyes search her own and it's all there between them. Her thumb drags across Lexa's lip, plumper than usual and kiss bruised. It's only a second before Clarke has her own against it again. Deepening it with Lexa's quick inhale. Her hand moves to Lexa's wetness, sliding between her thighs and inside, needing to feel that feeling, that  _wholeness_  she can see whenever she looks at Lexa. Needs to express it physically, too big for words. Their legs untangle just enough for Lexa's fingers to thrust into Clarke and they move together in and out, in and out. The intensity so overwhelming Clarke cannot breathe. She does not look away from Lexa. Lexa doesn't look away either, resting her forehead against Clarke's, sharing the same humid breath back and forth between them until it's too much, too much. Clarke breaks first. Lexa's sharp cry only a second after. Their bodies tightening and bowing together.

A sweet release. A rise and fall. A safety net.

 

Xx

 

The cool predawn air seeps into the room as much as they try to fight it. The sky hints at the new day, a lighter blue on the horizon. The sun steadily making its way to them. Lexa dozes beside her, her body warm and inviting. The smell of sleep and sweat and sex on her skin. They've barely slept. Dozing on and off in between rounds of talking, of love, of quiet happy silences.

Clarke stirs. Emboldened. She shifts and faces Lexa who even in sleep becomes attuned to her. Clarke leaves a soft kiss on Lexa's lips. They come alive for her and kiss back.

"Hi," she whispers. So happy the rising sun could pale in the way it shines off of her. The space between her ribs is so warm it feels as if it's glowing. When Lexa opens her eyes, greener than ever, and offers a slow lazy smile, Clarke simply melts. Right there.

" _Hei_ ," Lexa responds. She pulls Clarke into another kiss. Easy. Lazy. Fingers brushing her cheek and cupping her neck. Clarke would stay on those lips forever if Lexa would allow it.

"Get some sleep -- I'll be right back."

If Lexa wonders about it she doesn't ask. She hums sleepily and squeezes Clarke's hand, already drifting back off to sleep with a smile on her face.

It is the best morning Clarke can ever remember having.

 

Xx

 

She's surprised she catches her mother at home even at the early, just after dawn hour. Abby has always, always been up before the sun and at work rounding on patients.

"Clarke?" Her mother does not hide the surprise, nor should she. Early waking was never Clarke's style but she pulled herself out of bed and Lexa's warm arms after barely any sleep to catch her.

"Can we talk?"

Abby steps aside and the small apartment she's been given looks as barren as anything. A life in space and in the clinic have honed her mother into a spartan.

"If this is about yesterday I-"

"It is," Clarke cuts her off. "I wanted to apologize for leaving the meeting like I did."

When Abby doesn't say anything in response, Clarke continues under the watchful eye of a person who can always see more than one layer.

"Actually I'm not sorry I left -- I just shouldn't have been dramatic about it."

"If you came here to sway my opinion, you wasted a trip."

It cuts.

She felt inspired after talking with Lexa last night. After many things with Lexa last night. She cannot and will not let her mother take away that shine.

"I didn't." Clarke pulls back from the sting, the ground shifting under her. She expected her mother to be annoyed but this… "not everything comes with a motive you know."

"When you show up at my door this early, can you blame me?" Abby says with the tilt of her head. The sign that Clarke wouldn't be getting away with whatever scheme she crafted.

She lets out an aggrieved sigh. "No, I guess not."

They still haven't moved far beyond the doorway and the sun rises brilliantly in the small window by the table. Oranges and pinks fill the sky with a new day. New life.

"We have to figure out a way to work together here on the ground."

"I have more than a few grounders in my clinic."

"Not -- no. You and I, Mom. We have to get this right. We have to find a balance, especially when you have your political hat on. I know you and Kane have decided to share the Chancellor duties, but things are more complicated now."

Eyes narrow even further. "Because of Lexa?"

She knows.

"Yes," Clarke states it clearly, holding her head up high. "And because we are part of the Coalition now, it's not just us anymore, Mom."

"I know that, Clarke." Her mother takes a deep breath and finally relaxes her posture, no longer expecting a fight. "I know, which is why I'm taking this discussion and these deliberations as seriously as I am -- exhausting all opinions."

"Is that what you were doing yesterday?" Clarke remembers how steely her mother had been, how clinical, how quick she was to point out the brutality that was life on a ship that afforded no leniency. How the Commander had seemed more flexible. "Floating isn't a thing here."

Her father's face. The way his eyes looked before the door was opened and he was gone forever. Frozen like that for the rest of eternity.

"What are you trying to get out of me, Clarke?"

Months of solitary.

"I don't know."

Her mother shared her opinions in a way that was so cold, so detached. The politician and only the politician came to play. The fear tingles. Creeps up the back of her neck. The realization dawning, fully formed.

"Was it that easy to put me in solitary?"

Abby's eyes finally look away and a small gasp escapes her lips. Finally, Clarke got her back.

"Clarke?"

"Was it? Was it that easy for you to turn off everything inside of you that cared about me, about Dad?"

Clarke had seen her mother negotiate before many times. Had watched her lobby Kane, Jaha, other alliances on the Ark. Saw the manipulations, the twisted words, all to form a play, to get something done. Whatever was needed at the moment.

She grew up with it.

But she had never seen that cold, calculating ruthlessness applied to human lives before. Not even those that deserve it like Bellamy and Pike. Not outside the clinic, not with the oath of medicine behind her.

Had never seen how easy it was for her to go into a space to determine the pros and cons of allowing someone to keep breathing, keep living.

It's that heavy truth that weighed Clarke down. Was it that easy for her to send Clarke to her box? To the ground? To all but certain death? Did she even lose sleep over it?

"You sent me here -- you put me on the dropship and sent me here not knowing what would happen, but knowing death was the most likely option. Did that even matter?"

"I thought we had moved past this."

"I saw how you flipped it on yesterday, so casually," Clarke remembers how hard it was to make that call inside the depths of the Mountain. As necessary as it was, life or death,  _her_  life.  _Their_  lives.

She feels the cool metal of the lever in her hands. The weight of it. How she had to really move her arm to operate it, to pull it back.

How it wasn't easy, even though at that moment it was the only choice she had.

Maybe there's a part of her that's jealous at how callous Abby can be. How hardened.

Just as it is with Lexa.

These women who make impossible choices every day and continue on. As if it is easy. As if none of it really matters at all.

"What is this really about, Clarke?" Abby finally softens. Flickers of her mother poke through that facade Clarke knows so well.

"I'm trying. I'm trying to trust you again." The truth. A weight lifted off. "I know that what happened a few weeks ago in the throne room… when I went inside the City of Light. I know what that did to you, how you were there." She does. Abby held her tight and let her cry it out once she was back in a world that no longer held Lexa. Or, at least not yet.

She was her mother then. Purely.

"I just want to be able to trust you and rely on you. I spent the whole time in my box resenting you. I know life has changed here, but… sometimes you're still that person."

Abby nods her head with a quiet sadness. Her face doesn't betray much, but her eyes do. "Sometimes I don't even know who you are," she admits quietly. "You're so much like your father, and you're so much like me, but then… you're not. The ground changed you and made you something else. A stranger."

"Adapt or die."

"That's what we taught you on the ship. But, Clarke, you're not alone in this. I love you but in some ways I am still getting to know you. Can you say that you don't feel the burden of wearing different roles at different times?"

Clarke shakes her head. She knows. And, it's not even about that anymore. Now that they're here building a life, a solid life, on the ground… she wants more. She wants more from Abby. More  _with_  her.

"Would you like to come up for dinner sometime?"

A ripple of surprise crosses Abby's face. Clarke herself is shocked at the question that leaves her lips.

"With you and…?"

"Lexa, yes."

"I would like that. Very much, Clarke."

 

Xx

 

Lexa is up and dressed when Clarke returns to their rooms, but the smile on her face says it all. The way her posture relaxes when her eyes land on Clarke, how her eyes light up, it all sets Clarke's heart on a giddy skip. She closes the door behind her and practically runs to Lexa, hopping onto her lap with a laugh.

They share a messy kiss, their mouths too busy smiling and laughing to be kissed properly, but Clarke doesn't mind. It becomes one of her favorite moments yet.

She pulls back and brushes the curls away from Lexa's face. Her hair sits loose and messy over her shoulders, still damp from a bath. Lexa studies her, hands steady on Clarke's waist.

"There is still warm water," she offers quietly.

"Saying I smell?" Clarke teases back. Preens with the affectionate smile she receives, the squeeze of hands on her waist.

"I would have shared it with you."

"And then we never would have gotten anything done today."

"Who says we will now?" There's a rogueish curve to her lip.

"Well, I don't know about you  _Heda_ ," she purrs and leans closer, nose along Lexa's strong jaw, "but  _I_ already accomplished something today."

"Mm, yes, and quite before the morning started… how odd for you."

Clarke nips her skin in response to the jest and Lexa's gasp goes straight between her thighs. She trails her open mouth down the strong column of neck on display for her, satisfied with Lexa's shaky breathing.

"When is your first audience?" she mumbles in between kisses.

"Not for an hour…" Lexa's hands grip her tighter and a low growl escapes her throat.

"Plenty of time, then." Clarke returns to her mouth and pulls Lexa into a deep, dirty kiss.

 

Xx

 

The decision is made a few days later. Pike and Bellamy will go to _Azgeda_ and help them rebuild. Jaha, Abby and Kane decide, will be banished.

This is when Lexa steps in and flexes her position.

"When Jaha went to the Dead Zone he found the tool that nearly destroyed us all. He will not be banished but will remain imprisoned in the tower until everyone he has harmed has been rehabilitated. Then, and only then, will he be sent to _Azgeda_ with the other two."

Kane, of all people, tries to fight it but Lexa will not be moved. Clarke steps forward and agrees with her with an important addition. "None of the men will be allowed to work together. _Azgeda_ is large enough that they will be separated into different parts of the clan. Though, I suspect mutiny will be the farthest thing from their minds when they understand the terms of their release and the leniency of  _Heda_. Leniency they afforded no one else."

Lincoln's story rings in her ears. Pike would have had him executed like a dog if not for Octavia's timely intervention and cunning.

It makes Clake's stomach turn just thinking about it.

"How do we know we can trust Roan? Not to execute them himself or, if he feels like it, use them as weapons against us?" This time it's Abby testing the flimsy truce with Clarke already.

"I've trusted Roan with my life more than once," Clarke shoots her mother a look. "If he decides their actions in his territory fit an execution it's perfectly within his bounds. But, Roan is someone who believes in second chances." Her eyes drift to Lexa who nods.

"The Ice King will be fair. That is all we can trust."

Indra fetches Roan from his room in the tower and the rest of the meeting is devoted to logistics of the move. He looks more than ready to take on the new challenge, and to prove his loyalty to Lexa, and the coalition.

And, perhaps, just perhaps, with the way he studies Clarke, he understands the importance of aligning with new allies

 

Xx

 

Roan finds her later. She knew he would. As much as he complained about her after he found her in the woods, there is a certain sameness to them.

Outsiders.

People who have had to fight off their reputations only to garner new ones. New titles.

The kids born to privilege who had to crawl out of the shadow of their parents to make a life for themselves and themselves alone.

To find out who they are.

She and Roan. Simpatico.

He steps in line with her as she walks down to the clinic. "We'll be setting off in a few days." His admission surprises Clarke in a way she didn't think it would.

"Aren't the roads still bad?"

"The ice and snow are beginning to melt here and by the time we get up north, they'll be thawing a bit. I need to get back to my people," He finishes with a shrug.

A sadness creeps in. How she let herself get attached to the Ice King she'll never know. But, he helped her out. And Lexa.

Clarke wonders if Roan is the first real and true ally she's made on the ground.

"What will you do with them?" She doesn't specify who.

"It takes a long time to dig out from the winter -- not that we ever really fully dig out from the winter." He shoots her a look and she offers what little acknowledgment she can not having been on the ground for even a full year yet. "I suspect I will have them help with that," he takes a long pause. "Honestly, I'm not even sure what I'm going to do with them. My mother wasn't kind to prisoners and the only wards she took in were  _natblida_ she wanted to train." He sends her a sly look.

"Secret is safe with me, Roan." She offers, wanting him to keep talking.  _Besides, Lexa already knew all about Nia and her natblida_.

"Why did you offer?"

"I need my people to trust me -- to show that I am committed to this coalition, to Lexa. My mother played fast and loose with trust. I want my people to know that there is another way to live. Even though _Azgeda_ was part of the coalition it was in name only."

"And now you can show Lexa and your people that it's real." Clarke nods. "It's a good plan, I just hope you know what you're getting into."

"I guess I have to figure it all out." He reaches up a hand and scratches the back of his neck, fiddling with his braids and avoiding her eyes.

It's strange to see him so unsure, undone.

"Lexa trusts you." She looks him square in the eyes and doesn't let him look away. For all of his bluster, his snark, his mischievous charm, he is still the little kid trying to please. "And I trust you. I know you're gonna do this and be great."

"I don't need to be great, that was all  _her._ Her obsession."

"You'll be better, then. Better and just. You can right the wrongs of the past and set yourself up for a new legacy. That's why she chose you."

 

Xx

 

The market is busier than Clarke realized it would be, and it seems that every vendor she passes wants to give her something. Have her taste food, hand her a new piece. It feels as if every single person's eyes are on her. Matias is closer than he normally is as they weave in and out of the patrons, but she doesn't feel unsafe.

There are a few who offer only dirty looks or muttered words as she passes, but they are the minority. Most people want to see  _Wanheda_. It's exhausting.

_No wonder Lexa hates the market._

She's looking for Raven, was told she might be down here but if she is, she's found a good way to hide from Clarke among the many faces who look to her.

It's beginning to weigh on her, this broken thing between them.

There is a small booth that catches her eye at the end of the row. Smaller than most she's seen, but filled with beautiful paintings. Pieces of wood, rocks, a few canvases. Colors bright and beautiful, swirls and patterns and  _life._  It takes her breath away. The artist is a small woman, youngish maybe. Maybe not, she has a hard time telling grounder age. The woman darts her eyes away, and only looks at Clarke when she thinks she's unaware. Clarke can feel it.

There are tattoos inked along her uncovered hands and wrists, the same patterns and swirls that cover the wood and rocks.

"This is beautiful," Clarke mutters softly. Sharing it in a way that hopefully won't frighten the already skittish girl.

" _Mochof_." A soft reply. Clarke runs her hand along a long piece of wood. It looks weathered and worn, soft. The wood under her fingers is supple in a way she never wound have assumed before she landed on the ground. It's pleasant. "You can take it," the girl offers in a heavy accent Clarke hasn't heard much. Eyes darting away when Clarke looks up in surprise.

"No, no." She says quickly.

" _Beja, Wanheda._ " She picks it up and nearly thrusts it into Clarke's arms. " _Beja_." This time she looks Clarke in the eyes and offers a small bow.

It's all Clarke can do to thank her quietly with a smile and leave.

 

Xx

 

Once she's handed the painted wood to Matias and they slowly make their way back to the tower she feels a presence at her shoulder.

" _Wanheda,_ " a voice calls her name softly, almost in her ear. Clarke startles for a second, but the person attached can't be a threat if allowed this close.

She stops and turns her head to find Maryl. She immediately longs to pull the girl in for a hug but holds back only for the sense of propriety Maryl has all over her face. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me," Clarke teases instead.

"The opposite in fact," Maryl answers just as they round the corner away from the busy streets. "Has  _Heda_  spoken with you?"

That stops Clarke in her tracks, and she reaches out to grab Maryl's arm in a panic. "Is she okay?"

"Yes, she's fine." Maryl shrugs Clarke off. " _Heda_ is fine. I requested that my training continues with you. I see now that she hasn't told you yet."

"You'd be correct on that. Um -- what kind of training are you looking for? My mother is probably a better pick."

Maryl shakes her head slowly. "No." She pauses as if contemplating what comes next. Clarke isn't sure she'll ever get over how poised she is. "It must be you,  _Wanheda._ "

Clarke is hoping she'll say more so she doesn't respond. They continue walking and Maryl falls into step beside her. The crowd around them thins and then gets busier the closer they get to the tower.

"You understand life here, our people," Maryl offers softly. "You are who  _Heda_ trusts."

They enter the tower and step onto the lift. Clarke hates it, doesn't think she'll get used to the way they lurch and grind, so different from those on the Ark. She balls her hands into fists at her side and bears it. "I don't know anything about what a  _Fleimkepa_ does."

"You know the most important part already." There's a look. In another time, Clarke would bark with laughter. "The rest is history, medicine."

There's a part of her that's intrigued. Well, more than a part. A lot of her is intrigued by the proposition. For one, it would give her something to do… make her feel useful. Give her more of a reason to be in the tower, in close quarters with Lexa.

Lexa.

Maybe she didn't approach Clarke about it because she doesn't approve. A stone settles in Clarke's stomach at the thought.

"How did  _Heda_  react when you asked her?" The elevator slows, bringing an end to their time to discuss this.

Maryl almost shies away from the question, but she holds steady. "I don't pretend to know how  _Heda_ is feeling on any decision," she says.

Right. Clarke isn't going to get anything out of Maryl. She's even more walled off than Indra. Who knows what their family reunions must be like.

"I'll speak with her. Find me tomorrow."

 

Xx

 

Their rooms are empty when Clarke returns from the market. The fires have been lit and a few candles around the room -- it's warm and comforting and Clarke allows the feeling to ooze into her.

The bed is soft when she sits on it. Pulls her down and welcomes her like an old friend. The late afternoon sun sinks quickly and Lexa might be back soon but she might not.  _Heda'_ s life grows more unpredictable day by day, as she resumes her regular duties and the people truly believe she's back and good.

So good.

Clarke's eyes grow heavy and she feels herself drifting. Drifting easily.

Sleep isn't as heavy as it used to be. Fraught.

It's back to being restful.

She wonders when Lexa's room will be ready for them to move back into. If Lexa wants that. And then she sleeps.

She does not dream.

 

Xx

 

She only wakes when another weight joins her on the bed. She stirs and slides over, looking over her shoulder to find Lexa.  _Her_ Lexa.

There is a happiness that practically glows around her.

She's removed her overcoat and her boots. All the trappings of her position. Her favored dagger on the small table by the bed where it resides when not strapped to her waist.

Clarke can never stop the slow smile that overcomes her when she sees Lexa. She hopes she never wants to.

"Did you have a good nap?"

"Mm, yeah. Would have been better with you here, though."

"I am here now," Lexa states drily. Factually. Though the rakish look on her face gives her away after a moment.

"So you are," Clarke sasses. Sits up slowly and leans into Lexa's space. Pulls her into an embrace.

It is warm and strong and comforting -- everything Lexa  _is._

"Maryl found me today," she says into Lexa's shoulder. Not willing to loosen her hold yet. Breathing in that one little scent that she's come to know as Lexa's own.

"And?"

"She'd like me to teach her."

"And you?" Lexa does pull away now only to place a hand on Clarke's cheek and get a good look at her.

"I think I would like that, I think it would be a good thing."

"She made a request to finish her formal training. I am not surprised she went to you directly -- I haven't yet had a chance to bring it up with you -- we've been busy." Her eyes twinkle. Clarke loves Lexa like this. In her most unguarded. Her free state. She can be silly, human.

It's amazing how quickly they've gotten here. To this point. How big that step was and yet, how little. How it all was building to this. This right here.

Everything else will always be there. The differences. The stubbornness. The clans.

But this… _inevitable_ rings through Clarke's head.

After everything, there was no other way. No other path in life that didn't lead them here.

Clarke kisses her. Falls into the embrace again and feels Lexa relax against her. There is no longer hesitance. No holding back. Lexa uncoils her being, all of her. They fall against the mattress and into an easy, lazy kiss full of longing and promise.

 

Xx

 

After they finish their evening meal Clarke feels the need to ask a few more questions.

"About earlier -- Maryl asking me to help her finish her training, it's just the medical stuff, right?"

Lexa's back straightens. Just enough for Clarke to notice.

"The medical training is important, yes. You have skills and treatments from the Ark that have proven useful here, and a connection to your mother's knowledge." Her voice takes on a quality Clarke rarely hears outside of the audience chamber, and though she meets Clarke's eyes, her guard is back up.

It sets Clarke on edge. "Maryl's work was already pretty impressive."

"There is a reason she was chosen. All of the children chosen to train with the  _Fleimkepa_  are handpicked. It is even more stringent for them than it is for  _Natblida_ , where blood sets them apart."

While the answer is helpful, the way Lexa says it only stokes Clarke's frustrations. After their late afternoon romp she's even more annoyed.

"Okay Lexa, cut the crap. What are you not telling me?"

Green eyes flicker. She takes a deep breath and adjusts her body, pulling her leg up on the couch to better face Clarke. Her shoulders slump.

"I didn't mean to anger you, Clarke. I simply didn't know how to broach this topic with you, it's the reason I hadn't brought it forward yet. I should have realized that Maryl would have been eager to pick up where she left off."

"Okay…"

"Even if Maryl completes her training," Lexa pauses, and here her eyes lock on Clarke's. She looks as if she wants to reach out and grab Clarke's hand but instead it falls to her lap. "She will still be too young to assume the duties of Master  _Fleimkepa_."

Lexa takes a shaky breath, which unnerves Clarke more than anything else has in the last ten minutes.

"Lexa -- what are the duties of a Master?"

"Not only does she need a teacher, a mentor," Lexa licks her lips. "She needs someone who will help her really, truly, learn. That's just the beginning, though. More potential candidates will need to be found and recruited… there is a lot you don't know."

"Are you… are you saying you want me… to be the new…  _Lexa_  -- this is insane! Is that what you're saying? I'm from the  _sky_ , no one will agree to that."

"No one else has to." And here, Lexa leans forward. A determined look in her eye. "It is the choice of  _Heda_  and  _Heda_  alone, who will serve as Master  _Fleimkepa_."

"You have got to be kidding me right?"

Lexa just looks up at her. A mixture of resolve and wide puppy eyes. It's unnerving.

"Historically, how many of the others were sleeping with  _Heda_?" Clarke scoffs. "You can't mix sex with this, it'll be too messy." She shakes her head and stands up, pacing around the back of the couch. "No. No way -- this is crazy."

"You're right. It may have been if you were not already  _Wanheda_."

Lexa's frank admission stops Clarke in her tracks. "What does  _that_  have to do with  _any_  of this?"

Here, Lexa takes a deep breath. "You have already performed the most important duties of all -- guarding the Coalition, acting as regent while  _Heda_  was indisposed. Publicly. Admirably. The people,  _our_  people, trusted you and listened to your leadership, your guidance. Your duty is to the Flame above all else. You've already guarded that with your life." She does not look away, though a brief sadness crosses her features.

"Wait -- you're telling me that bald fuck was set to be in charge if anything happened to you or you were injured?"

She nods slowly. "An unfortunate choice, I'm aware. I was hoping to relieve him of his duties once Maryl was of age."

"How long have you been thinking about this?"

Lexa looks down at her lap for a long moment. Clarke stops pacing and stands to face her, crossing her arms and waiting her out. Finally, Lexa stands and places her arms behind her back. She somehow looks both every inch of the Commander and every inch a nervous someone asking the person they love something deep and life altering.

"Longer than you know. I wanted to ask you before everything happened but I couldn't. The timing wasn't right and then. It became abundantly clear to me in the bunker, when I saw and heard about what you went through and how hard you fought for me to come back."

There is a long stretch of silence. So long it would feel deafening if Clarke wasn't bouncing all of this around her head. It's…  _a lot_. To say the least. But Lexa remains calm and measured, she's thought about this.

"Will you tell me," Lexa breaks the silence. Her voice barely above a whisper, "was the coalition as solid as you say, while I was… indisposed?"

It's. I mean. Clarke doesn't know, does she? Swallowed by grief and sent on an impossible mission before everything spun into violent chaos…."I can't really say for certain." She shrugs. Lexa nods slowly, it is the most she will ever really know. The bits and pieces.

"I still believe it was through you that everything did not fall apart."

"Lexa -- I don't know anything about any of this. I'm still learning so much about the culture on the ground."

She nods. "I know, and you have been among the most open about that. The most willing."

Clarke blushes. "I - I have more reason to." She doesn't quite name it, but the way Lexa looks at her when she says it… they both  _know_.

"Yes. The people respect you."

"Some of them hate me."

"Do you think I am universally loved? Do you not think I'm hated as well?"

"It's different for you." Clarke knows it's the truth but she tries to brush it off. She saw just how much discord Lexa's decisions could cost.

"It's not. It was  _your_ actions that defeated the Mountain. It was  _your_ actions that brought our people back from an invisible enemy. Whether you like it or not, you've risen up." Here, oh here is where Lexa smiles. It is a mix of pride. Honor. Love. And it is absolutely devastating. "You were born for this, Clarke. Same as me."

It feels just as heavy the second time Lexa says it, just as full as it did that night in her tent what feels like years ago. It was a statement, a truth, that rang around Clarke's head even when she tried to forget it. Tried to hate Lexa. Tried to bury everything - the teachings, the strategies, the brewing fledgling feelings - deep in the dark woods.

It was something she couldn't deny. Not then. Not now.

"The people will accept us together, in every way, because of it. Probably even more so --  _Heda_  and  _Wanheda_ , united on all fronts."

"I think that bullet fucked with your head."

"Clarke," Lexa steps into her space now. "You have more power than you know, and that title means more than you realize. You cannot deny it."

She takes a deep breath and steps back from Lexa, reeling. Trying to take it all in. Lexa holds steady.

"Why me?" she says, small and simple.

"You are the one I trust most," Lexa answers, just as small. Just as simply. She reaches for Clarke's hand. "I'd like you to help me lead our people, publicly."

"I told you I wasn't cut out for it."

Lexa smiles. "Not to be _Heda_ , no. But this, this you can handle."

"Can I think about it?"

"Of course."

 

Xx

 

She sits on it for a week. Peppering Lexa with questions when they're alone, and turning it over in her mind so many times it starts looping back and not making sense. Maryl avoids her again. Disappearing into the shadows, though Clarke can tell the other advisors are getting antsy. The repairs to the throne room have been completed and Lexa is more than ready to hold her first large audience since she's been back. Not only with the ambassadors, but for the select advisors and leaders within each community as well. It mirrors so much the one she held before. There's been a knot in Clarke's stomach when she thinks about the events of that day.

On top of that, she can tell Lexa is eager to announce this decision. Banking on the fact that it will be a yes, that Clarke will join her team formally.

If her fitful sleep is any indication, Lexa has her own anxieties about this planned audience, too. She tosses and turns next to Clarke who has stared at the dark ceiling since the last candle burned out.

Lexa cries out. It's soft but aching. Full of longing. She shifts and shudders with a breath as she wakes and Clarke can see the wetness that gathers around her eyes. It startles her almost more than the sound Lexa made.

Suddenly Lexa is in her arms seeking shelter. She is quiet so long she must have fallen asleep. Clarke allows herself to feel the tug of heavy eyelids now that there's a heavy warmth enveloping her. She is just on the verge of sleep when Lexa's voice pulls her back.

"They're gone," her voice is quiet. Clarke shifts next to her and pulls her closer. Lexa's chest is shaking and she wakes up fully.

"Lex?"

When Lexa faces her with tear-filled eyes she looks so small, so fragile, Clarke's chest tightens.

"I had a dream.  _Pramheda_  was there." She takes a deep, deep breath and a few tears trickle and slide down her cheeks. She shifts even closer to Clarke. "She said that there was nothing else they could teach me. That I had learned all I could from them. They could no longer guide me."

Clarke wipes a tear and leans in, kissing Lexa's forehead and staying there for a moment. Lexa lets out a sob, one singular sob while she buries her head under Clarke's chin. Hiding.

It is a rare moment. Lexa has shown her feelings, her fragility and humanity, more and more here with Clarke. In the safety she provides. But this moment is new. Rare and special.

Clarke is at a loss.

She rubs Lexa's back and allows her the space to feel it all. To get it out. Tears pool against her skin as Lexa cries.

Heartbroken.

"They've been silent for weeks. The only time I heard them was when I was figuring out the new succession plan -- and then it was like it always was. Chaos. Until now."

There are so many words Clarke could say but none of them seem right for the moment. Not wanting to say the wrong thing and watch Lexa react or pull that wall back up. But, what could the former Commanders offer to the one that has changed their whole world already. Their entire way of life, of being, before she saw twenty five summers.

The coalition. The sky. The change in succession.

She has done more than any Commander before her.

So, Clarke drops another soft kiss against Lexa's wavy hair and squeezes her tighter. Allowing the moment to breathe. The silence to speak.

They stay that way long enough for sleep to begin pulling at Clarke again. Lexa warm against her, the room quiet and the fire almost burned out. Lexa moves. Places a gentle kiss on Clarke's neck and uncurls from her position. A hand cradles Clarke's face and Lexa greets her with a sleepy smile.

"I'm sorry," she blushes.

"Don't be," Clarke answers. Lexa kisses her again, full of feeling. All the things they cannot say to one another but that they understand.

"I woke you."

"It's okay. I'm glad you did."

Naked vulnerability alive on Lexa's face. Clarke places a soft kiss against a wet cheek. "I believe in you, Lexa."

"What is your decision?" Her voice shakes and cracks with feeling. It makes sense that she's asking for an answer in this moment of extreme vulnerability.

"I will accept on one condition," she pauses and waits. Lexa's eyes shine with hope even in darkness. "I'm not wearing those ugly robes or shaving my head."

Lexa's answering laugh and smile is brighter than any burst of sunlight. "We are in agreement then."

"Lex," she waits for Lexa's answering hum of attention. "If my duty is to the Flame and the Flame is… well, not functioning then…" Clarke is suddenly feeling foolish though Lexa hasn't given her any reason to. There is another memory that is buried deep in her mind that comes up now. One that was brushed aside. "It's  _you_."

There is a certain brightness that coats Lexa's features. She is patient in this moment. So patient. "Yes -- your duty is to guard the Flame, the spirit and the vessel. You must keep it safe." She answers, but there is no hint of that sadness in her voice. "Keep me safe." There's a seriousness now, tenderness.

"Why didn't you say that before?"

"I thought you knew. The way you spoke of it before… what Maryl and I spoke of. I thought you knew."

"I did. Or. I guess I did but everything since then has been so muddled." She doesn't let herself think about the deeper meaning to what Lexa is proposing. She hasn't really all week, at least not actively, though it's been kept at the back of her mind. It's a marriage of sorts. A union. Politically. They will be a united front, Clarke as Lexa's main advisor, to serve and protect both Heda and the trainees.

She thinks back to her history lessons on the Ark. How no one leader ruled alone.

"We can speak more about this in the morning if you'd like," Lexa offers quietly. Has been so patient with her as Clarke tries on this new skin. What this life is. Can be.

"Maybe." Clarke stifles a yawn as best as she can. "Are you okay to sleep?"

There's a wonderfully soft smile that flirts with Lexa's features. "Now I will be." They settle back down, Lexa wrapping herself around Clarke's body.

 

Xx

 

Clarke figures she should let her mother know before it's announced. Try to take the surprise out of it. Try to let her understand the full weight of the decision. She is still grappling with it all as well, and the changes she faces before her yet again. It's all… It's all so much different than she ever would have imagined living on the ground.

Clarke will take the position meaning a new ambassador from _Skaikru_ will have to be chosen.

Even knowing how the council has worked for her entire life, she remains hopeful they can come to a quick decision on that front.

It's a rare moment of quiet in the clinic and Abby is perched in the back of the large room, her hand moving quickly over the charts she pulled together for herself. She looks up at Clarke's approach but doesn't stop writing her note. Clarke has lived with her long enough to understand not to interrupt the notation of a medical record. She sits on the edge of the table and waits.

"It's going to take me a long time to get used to charting like this," Abby says, more to herself than to Clarke, but it's an opening.

"No tablets down here."

"Not yet, but if Raven can think of a viable way to rig the solar panels in some areas, we might be able to figure something out."

That's news to Clarke.

"Is that… something you're working on?"

Abby does look up now, her gaze cutting through Clarke. "It's been mentioned here or there, hasn't she talked to you about it?"

Clarke shakes her head. "Besides, I'm not the one who needs to be spoken to about it. I'm sure the Commander will have some opinions on this subject."

There's another look and then Abby is back to scrawling. "She went back to the Ark, you know. Said she needed to clear her head but I'm worried that the physical demands of the journey will do more damage."

A bolt of anxiety hits Clarke. "She went to the Ark?"

"Yes, to examine the solar panels. See what shape they're in and what they're capable of here."

Clarke gulps. "She really should talk to the Commander about this before she starts working on them… we only just returned to some peace."

Abby levels her a look. It lasts longer than Clarke is comfortable with. A challenge.

"I need to talk to you about that, actually."

"I already know you and Lexa are… a thing. I'm coming to dinner soon, you'll remember the invitation?"

"Mom-  _please._ "

This time she has her mother's full attention. Abby stands and moves away from the table and ushers Clarke into a small room at the back of the building. There is just enough light through a small, dirty window that they do not need a candle.

"There are going to be some changes announced tomorrow. I…" she stops and swallows her words, trying to piece them together in a way that Abby will understand.  _This was easier in my head_. "I've been given the opportunity to take a new position within Lexa's council of ambassadors."

"What kind of new position?" Abby crosses her arms, but her face looks more intrigued than skeptical.

"Do you remember Titus?" At her mother's nod, Clarke continues. "The Commander has tapped me to replace him -- she believes this will benefit ground and sky relations, as well as suit the other duties required of the position. Not to mention provide stability within the coalition as a whole."

To her credit, her mother barely reacts. To anyone else, it would look like acceptance, but Clarke has been trained to see the barely-there narrowing of eyes, the flicker of her mouth set in its firm line, the way her hand grips the pencil she's fashioned.

"I'd ask you if you were a little young for that, but since we've landed here I can see that age has not been a prerequisite for leadership. But, why you?"

Clarke thought she'd ruffle at the question, especially from her mother, but it doesn't bother her.

"None of the answers I give you will seem good enough, honestly. I'm still trying to understand it myself."

"Is this about that nickname you have now?" The way she says it isn't outwardly condescending, it's more of an inquiry than anything. But, Clarke feels rattled.

" _Wanheda_. And yes."

Gears turn behind her mother's eyes. She stands from the desk slowly and places herself in front of Clarke. "What does this mean for you?"

"I'll be living in the tower full time, traveling with Lexa when necessary and without Lexa when necessary. There are other duties I can't really tell you but, I'll be in audiences with her and acting as her main advisor."

"I didn't realize things were this serious."

Clarke heaves out a deep sigh. "Yeah, there's… been a lot."

"Is this what you want, Clarke?" That scrutinizing look is back, but there's also a softness that belies it. This is the Abby she grew up with. The one that wants her daughter to be happy, even if she doesn't fully understand the choices being made.

"Yeah," Clarke answers truthfully. "Yeah, it is."

 

Xx

 

The crowd filling the throne room can be heard throughout the entire floor it occupies in the tower. People have been streaming up for some time now as Clarke watches Lexa prepare for her first audience within. There is a more guarded presence around her as she paints her eyes black and pulls on her overcoat.

Nerves, Clarke thinks. Since she made her comeback announcement in front of the funeral pyre she has not addressed her larger council. The ambassadors, sure. People within the tower and her guards, sure. But, this. This is.

 _Blood must not have blood_  and the echoing roar that ensued flares up in Clarke's memory. Again.

She swallows down the bile she can feel rising up her throat.

Lexa is set to announce her new succession plan, and from the set of her jaw and the ice in her eyes, Clarke can tell it's going to be one people will disagree with. On top of that, she is set to be announced as the new  _Fleimkepa_.

It's… it's going to be an interesting night.

The new braids in her hair itch and pull, but Clarke is grateful her hair is off her face. She wears a new jacket made of soft, supple and worn leather. It's been well taken care of for decades, lived in, and yet it remains in excellent condition. Lexa also gifted her with some new boots and a small dagger to slide inside them.

It feels real now. This life. This role.

This partnership with Lexa.

They didn't talk about it much. Ignored it really. Lexa spent the day assessing the state of the throne room as well as her old quarters. She hid away with Indra. With Maryl. With her guards. With everyone else. Part preparation and part re-set. It unsettled Clarke a bit, but she allowed Lexa the space to work out just what this would mean going forward and just how she needed to approach it.

But now is the time for battle.

There is a slow knock at the door -- the guards and Indra coming to collect them. Lexa allows herself a deep, shaky breath and looks up at Clarke with eyes that are wide. It cuts right through Clarke and she's by her side as quickly as she can be, pulling her into a gentle kiss. "You came back for this. For them," she whispers against Lexa's lips. "They'll follow you into the dark."

"Maybe."

Clarke grabs Lexa's face with both hands. "I was there when you were gone. I know."

Lexa's hands grip Clarke's waist and she steels herself back up. She leans her forehead against Clarke's and nods. "Thank you."

"I'm here with you. Now and always."

"I told myself that if I came back I would remake the world."

"Well, then let's go remake it."

 

Xx

 

The throne room is more crowded than it was the last time Clarke was present for an audience. Lexa's throne looks just as imposing as always, placed in the center of the dais and lifted above the crowd. Clarke stands behind Lexa's right shoulder and Indra stands behind her left, flanking her. Both her mother and Kane are present, near the front. Clarke's eyes travel through the crowd and find Lincoln, taller than most and sticking out for her to easily spot. Octavia is with him. Roan either turned back on the road or has not yet left despite his claims to leave last week. He stands near the back of the room - smirk firmly in place.

Everyone looks up at Lexa with stars in their eyes, like she was the one who hung the moon above them. The love and adoration are palpable and radiates through the crowd. It took Clarke's breath away when they made their grand entrance. She shared a small look with Indra as they followed behind Lexa to the dais. These people, their people, love their  _heda_.

When she stands stock still and ready to speak, the crowd falls silent. It's measured. There is anticipation heavy in the air. None of them know what to expect.

"Ambassadors and counsellors, I greet you all today with two new orders. I trust you to remember my last charge -- that blood must not have blood. That law will remain." There are a few murmurs in the crowd but no unrest, not like the last time. "I am here to formally appoint a new Master  _Fleimkepa_. This is someone I trust with not only my life but the good of the people. She has proven herself in the face of fire time and time again -- and has been trusted to guard some of our oldest and deepest ways of life.  _Klark kom Skaikru, Wanheda_ ," here Lexa turns and addresses her, just as she said she would. "Please step forward."

There are a few gasps in the crowd, some gentle murmurs as Clarke tries to swallow down the frog in her throat. The formality feels so much like it did when she pledged the _Skaikru_ to the coalition. She moves in front of Lexa and bows down, again. There is no singing, there is no fancy eye black on her eyes, but there are still looks of shock around the room. The stones below her knees are still as hard as ever.

"Do you accept this position beside me, do you vow to act with a steady hand and in the interests of the Coalition?"

"I solemnly vow."

"And will you guard and protect the Flame above all else?"

Anyone else but Clarke would miss the undercurrent in Lexa's words. Echoes of that night again resound in Clarke's memory. The way Lexa looked up at her so earnestly, with eyes that were as clear as Clarke had ever seen them. The words she said holding more weight than anyone else would have heard.

It is like that now.

Yes, Clarke will be formally and outwardly guarding the spirit of the Commander, the vessel upon which it lives.

But, she will also be guarding Lexa. And the heart that beats inside her chest. It is the highest order of fealty.

"With all the blood that flows in my veins," she answers. The words traditionally used for this ceremony come easily.

Clarke has already pledged herself, her life and her heart, to Lexa. Just as Lexa did so many moons ago.

It's not for loyalty now. Not a test. They have been tested beyond what either could imagine.

It is for the future. For the way forward.

To remake the world.

"So it is done," Lexa states to the crowd and offers Clarke a hand, pulling her up to her feet to face the crowd. " _Klark kom Skaikru, Fleimkepa,_ " she announces. There are a few confused faces but most of those gathered in the room nod and bow their heads in a sign of respect. Roan holds her gaze for a moment longer than anyone else before he dips with a flourish. There is still something odd about her mother's face, maybe a certain kind of sadness. Abby does her best to mask it but Clarke knows her too well. It will take time for her to fully understand it all. Time for her to see Clarke as she is now: no longer a child, no longer only of the sky. No longer at the mercy of Abby's decisions.

No. She has been bent and reshaped here now, too.

 _Wanheda_. Commander of Death and Keeper of the Spirit.

 

Xx

 

The second order of business on Lexa's mind will not be as easy to swallow down. Or, perhaps it might. She did not divulge the details of her new plan of succession, not in words.

Clarke has watched her mull it over. Curse the Flame for going silent. Wring her hands when she assumes no one can see her.

It's the right call, they both know it. After the remaining _natblida_ came out of the bunker and resumed their place within the tower it was even more of a necessity.

There are so few.

They are so young.

"With our new  _Fleimkepa_  comes a new way of life. A new way forward. Ascension of  _Heda_  will no longer demand a fight to the death. The conclave will no longer be about blood sport, needless destruction of our best warriors. The conclave will instead be a test, an exhibition of the skills  _Heda_ must carry."

This - this is revolutionary. It doesn't quite take Clarke by surprise, but Lexa's decree ripples out amongst those gathered. None of them speak loud enough to fight it. Yet.

It's risky.

Those that survive may move against the individual who wins. Who ascends. Might present the most danger to  _Heda_.

Or… not.

The dark shadows that cross Lexa's face whenever she mentions the conclave, or the  _natblida_ , speak volumes.

Killing her brothers and sisters was not easy.

Was not right.

And what Ontari did. The massacre. It was unspeakable.

" _Natblida_  who do not win the mantle of  _Heda_  will not only survive but will continue to train. Those old enough will become generals, warriors, spies. A trusted circle of our most deadly to defend and protect the coalition."

It's smart. Lexa will create a secret service of sorts. Not only will they replenish the dwindling  _natblida_ , but they will hopefully carry a loyalty to  _heda_  that cannot be tested. It will be a hurdle for Clarke, Maryl and Lexa to keep them from becoming power hungry.

She sighs. It might actually be more than a hurdle. It might be a mountain. They will determine that as the days pass now, moving ahead.

"We have come to a point in the road where we must choose a new destiny for ourselves. We must continue to evolve. We must hope for more for the generations that come after us -- that we can do better, be better. The Coalition has provided us safety, has ended needless and petty wars. Now, we can focus on what is important. We can usher in a new way of life that does not require death at every turn. That will go hand in hand with  _jus drein no jus daun_."

The mood shifts.

Lightens.

Clarke searches the sea of faces before them and sees confusion melt away. Tradition cannot compete with what Lexa is offering now: an end to the shortened lives of their children. She had once admitted, deep in the night when Clarke had first seen her black blood, that pregnancy would often come clouded in fear.

Fear of a  _natblida_.

Born to fight and die.

Not even the honor of a greater purpose could soothe some expectant parents.

She is taking those shackles off her people now. Eradicating that fear. There will still be danger, there will still be fighting and sickness. But it does not have to be this organized, calculated. Outdated.

Merciless and needless.

When the cheers and clapping begin, Clarke's heart beats wildly.

Lexa's eyes find hers for a brief moment but it carries the weight of words that were unsaid.

The noise in the room fades away. As if she could focus on anything, anyone, other than Lexa.

 

 

                                                  ______________________________________________________________                                              

 

 

Spring has finally melted away into summer. The thaw happened slowly at first, so slowly, and then all at once. One day the barren trees around them held no promise, and then as if overnight, bloomed with buds of greens and pinks and the scent of new, fresh earth.

It was almost too unreal to believe - watching the cycle of life happen in real-time, in front of her. The ground softened beneath her feet, first becoming even muddier until it gave with a firm freshness. Grass sprang back to life and the crops and plants begin to grow. It all unfolds around her and before her, and she is grateful. The world that has faced so much turmoil, so much pain, will continue to be reborn. Even though the idea of the seasons and the different climates of the earth they left was taught while aboard the Ark, nothing could have prepared her for the experience of it. The utter beauty. She is gobsmacked in the face with it, really.

Lexa, it seems, is fond of summer. There is a new lightness about her. More smiles when they're in private. Laughs. She gleefully shed her heavier coats and shirts for lighter ones. Prettier ones. Sleeveless and thin ones.

Clarke will never get over how delicate Lexa can look.

How small and fragile her wrists are. Her collarbones.

Her ankles.

At just the thought, Clarke picks up her pace in an effort to get inside the tower quicker, Maryl at her side and Matias behind them.

"Heda will be pleased," Maryl says. A roundabout acknowledgment of the excitement that must be radiating off Clarke now that they're back in Polis. They were only gone for a week this time, but Lexa has been busier than ever now that the warm weather is back.

Clarke  _misses_  her.

"Three  _natblida_  to come to the tower when they're old enough is quite a feat from one small region," Maryl continues.

Clarke hums in answer, too focused on getting to Lexa to really pay attention. It really has been a rewarding experience, traveling from village to village to find  _natblida_  babies and children that will come to Polis to train and learn. The partnership she's formed with Maryl was organic. A seamless transition.

Those first few weeks after the announcement were a blur. Maryl showed her the sacred space - Clarke had already seen it the night Titus sent her away into the dark with a broken heart and a chip in a box. But experiencing it with Maryl, and understanding the full history of all it held was enlightening. And then there was so much to learn. Dozens of Rebecca's old journals, the old tech, the thirteenth station. It was overwhelming and yet, the final pieces of the puzzle to snap into place. The bridge between her people and those on the ground.

Deep within Rebecca's journals, Clarke discovered the secret to the nightblood coursing through Lexa's veins. Development of the antibodies that were not foreseen to genetically carry, but have. It's all fascinating.

Lexa teased her several times about how quickly Clarke made her way through their histories, how often she brought her notes back up to the rooms to go over deep into the night, or to share with Lexa - who sees that Clarke understands, truly understands, these sacred things more than any other  _Fleimkepa_  who came before. Because they crashed to earth from the same place. There is possibility here. Clarke can pull things into the teaching of both the _natblida_ and the  _fleimkepa_ that no other has been able to before.

It's heady stuff.

It's exciting.

Matias leads them on to the lift that will deposit them in the throne room where both will report out before Maryl will be dismissed and Clarke can retreat back to Lexa's rooms - well, their rooms - back into Lexa's arms. For all that she shared on the ride back, Maryl is silent once they board.

A meeting is just clearing out when Clarke and Maryl reach the throne room - the members bowing to her as she passes.

That was a new thing that came with her new role. Not just  _Wanheda_. Clarke still isn't used to it.

Lexa is seated on her throne and Clarke is able to catch a quick glimpse of her before they fully enter - she looks tired, though her posture is perfect. There's something around the shape of her mouth and in her eyes that others might not be able to see, but Clarke has quickly picked up on all of Lexa's tells.

As soon as Maryl is announced Lexa stands. Her eyes are shining with happiness when they find Clarke's.

"I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow," Lexa greets. She hasn't yet looked at Maryl, speaking as if only to Clarke.

"Sorry to disappoint," Clarke answers. She'd like to wink at Lexa but her duties to the Commander hold her back. Barely.

"The roads were easier to navigate than we thought. The rains in the east cleared up early." Maryl interjects with a tone that somehow manages to hold a trace amount of scolding for the two of them.  _Imagine!_

Clarke swallows down a laugh but sees amusement etched all over Lexa's face. They'll talk about  _that_  later. After Clarke has been properly welcomed back home.

_Home._

She's always been quick to adapt but this place became a home to her in ways she never thought possible, especially upon first arrival when she was dragged and imprisoned.

Really, it's mostly Lexa that's become her home. When she's away from the tower it feels impossibly lonely to Clarke for all the people in it.

Clarke allows Maryl to lead the majority of the debrief. A responsibility she would like the younger girl to get used to. Part of her "training", not that she really needs much. As Maryl predicted, Lexa visibly reacts to the number of  _natblida_  found and identified on this trip. Her happiness is infectious, or maybe it's just that Clarke is happy to be near her again, but her excitement at the new possibilities that lay before them is palpable.

She's practically giddy. As giddy as the Commander will allow herself to be in front of her subjects.

Clarke's seen better. Privately of course.

Would like to get to the better as soon as possible if their official duties could just wrap up quickly  _thank you very much._

She weighs in on the conversation when necessary or prompted, but otherwise allows Lexa to pepper Maryl with as many questions as she'd like - and is frankly surprised at how long and detailed it gets. She adjusts her posture after a while and flares red hot when Lexa's eyes cut to her. They hold for a long heartbeat, which floods through Clarke's ears and makes her knees weak.

Lexa waits for Maryl to finish her statement before dismissing her politely with a smile and praise.

Then she dismisses her guards and turns her attention back to Clarke, fully.

"Wanheda." There's a sly look on her face as she teases. Clarke volleys back with a bow.

"Are you ready for me now? Or shall I carry on with the other items on my to-do list?" Clarke offers, straightening up.

Lexa steps down from the dais and approaches Clarke with that same soft smile on her face. Her eyes are greener than Clarke remembers. Always seem greener than she remembers. As if the hue changes and deepens every time Clarke looks at her. Lexa's hands, once behind her back, come to rest on Clarke's hips.

And then there is no space between them. Everything in Clarke's body, her soul, breathes out  _Lexa, Lexa, Lexa._

"Though I enjoyed the reprieve from your sass, I'm quite glad you're home," Lexa says softly, her breath dusting along Clarke's cheeks.

"Miss me?"

It's amazing, Clarke thinks. That they made it here. To this place. This solid ground under their feet. Where the teasing is gentle and real, not barbed. Not meant to wound. Where the life they have together, built and steady, is not in question. Has not faltered. Grows each day.

Their love. Roots reaching deep.

Their lives were already twisted together, marks made upon each other that both would have carried forever no matter what. No matter if they got  _here_  or not.

But this?

This is amazing.

" _Sha_ ," Lexa breathes on Clarke's lips, closing the finite space between them for a gentle kiss.

Once again Clarke's heart runs away in her chest and her stomach swoops. It's still a new feeling even though they've been at this for a few months. Being able to greet Lexa like this. To be welcomed home - after a week, a day, an hour. It doesn't matter. This. This is theirs.

The kiss is over almost as soon as it starts and Clarke chases, chases. Lexa squeezes her hips before finding her hands and twining long fingers in between Clarke's. She leads them to the door, down the hall, back to their room.

The days are longer in the summer and the sun is still high enough in the sky to cascade nicely across the big bed with its imposing twisted wood headboard, but soon the clouds will be brushed with reds and purples. Lexa crowds into her as soon as they're back behind closed doors, her eyes soft and her touch on Clarke's skin even softer.

Her nose brushes Clarke's and there's an intake. Sharp. And then lips.

A yearning spans.

With her kiss is warmth. Tenderness. It breathes sweetness into Clarke's soul, pours honey into her heart. Flooding through her veins.

Fills the cracks and holes inside with  _her._

_Lexa._

 

Xx

 

Clarke can't breathe. She's tried. It's lost. It's lost in Lexa. In the way Lexa moves against her, with her. In the way Lexa fills her until she's breaking.

How Lexa will pull Clarke on top of her and wrap her long legs around Clarke's waist. The tendons in her neck flex and flare as she comes on Clarke's fingers.

It has only been a week apart. The longest since Lexa's return. Every second was misery if Clarke allowed herself to think about it. To sink into the anxiety that clawed at her. Itching.

But now she is here, she is home.

She is naked and on her back again while Lexa's pretty lips mark her skin wherever they land. Wherever they please.

Her eyes are dark when she looks up through her long lashes. And then her mouth is on Clarke and everything else melts away.

Everything except  _Lexa, Lexa, Lexa_  and the way she curls her tongue into Clarke and the way her hands grip Clarke's hips.

She's gone and floating in the stars again before she can catch her next breath.

 

Xx

 

The sun has set and the room is dark save for a small fire in the hearth even though the season brings warmth and air so thick it feels like walking through soup. They are both propped up on pillows, naked and finally cooled. Hands and legs restless to touch, to feel, even after their afternoon twisted in each other.

Clarke tells Lexa more about her trip while her fingers dance along Lexa's hand, her wrist. Her bicep. Lexa asks quiet, gentle questions and every time she does Clarke's heart thuds in her chest. It's a topic that means more to Lexa than Clarke will ever know - will ever be able to truly fathom even with her dirty history on the Ark. And Lexa tells her how the council sessions went, about her training sessions with the  _natblida_ , about Raven's progress on updating the solar panels for the equipment in the clinic.

The words sounded foreign on Lexa's lips when the idea was first broached and the plan allowed, but she's caught on and caught up quickly and now it's a part of their routine. The mixing and mashing of earth and stars that will forever be their life.

Lexa stretches her long limbs and Clarke swoons. Every time Lexa looks at her - always - but especially now. Like this. Here. With Clarke's bite marks peppered in among the battle scars. She swoons.

Never understood the meaning of the word until the very instant she allowed herself to love Lexa. To feel the weight of it. Understand it. Hold it in the palm of her hands and cherish it.

And now she's a pile of swooning mess.

They stop talking every so often when temptation gets the better of them and dissolve into messy kisses and giggles.

Wrapped up in their intimacy is a certain honesty. Weaving and braiding around them as they move together, their bodies and mouths. Building. A layer, a second skin. Something can be felt, can be seen in every look, every touch.

It has always been there - from that first stolen afternoon before to now, here, after countless times together. Months. What is here for her, for them, amidst the care, the love, the passion, is pure honesty. Brutal at times, but unwavering. Real.

It's a realization that shakes Clarke to the foundations. Leaves her unmoored and yet anchored in the safety of Lexa's embrace.

She weaves her fingers tighter into Lexa's wild mane and kisses her harder.

 

Xx

 

As nice as it is to be back home, Clarke's reprieve from her duties does not last longer than the afternoon and early evening tucked up with Lexa. They're back in the throne room for the morning audience - and on very little sleep - in no time. Lexa is looking particularly refreshed and seems to be in quite a pleasant mood if Clarke says so.

 _If only everyone had the intel to thank me on that_  she thinks as Lexa settles a petty crop dispute in half the time it usually takes.

The early audiences pass somewhat quickly before Lexa is whisked away and Clarke is left to check in down at the clinic and retrieve Maryl. Her mother seems particularly pleased with the progress Maryl has made on her already excellent skill set. If Clarke was the jealous type, she'd have some feelings about that. Instead, she feels proud, though she barely has a right to. Maryl was Maryl long before Clarke met her.

She does make a detour first though. To the small house that's been converted into a sort of lab. Matias posts up outside the door as Clarke enters, winding into the back room easily. Familiar voices are already deep in conversation when she enters the room.

"Yeah, but if I could figure out a way to fix this wiring, I could extend the --" Raven stops mid-thought. "Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

"Fucking finally. Dude, I don't know why it takes you so long to travel -- did you take some extra stops for your beauty sleep?" Octavia swings down off the table to greet Clarke in a sort of half hug, half pat on the back.

"When  _you_  travel you don't have the entourage I do."

"Mmm sure, Clarke." Clarke holds back her smile as long as possible, but in the end, Octavia's skeptical glare wins out.

Raven hasn't stopped tinkering with the solar panel propped up against the wall, though from the way her brow is furrowed, Clarke assumes she's giving it some extra attention.

"Lexa told me you debriefed her the other day on the progress?"

"That's one word for it," Raven finally looks up, mischief in her eyes. "I understand the formality necessary, but, come on… she has no idea what this all means. It's ridiculous. I can see the guards and stuff looking at me like I'm one of those two-headed deer in the forest."

"If you think that's bad, you should have heard her when we first started talking about it."

"You mean when you got her in bed, got her defenses down, and then sprung your Sky People agenda on her?"

There it is.

Clarke picks up a nearby piece of scrap paper and balls it up to toss at Raven's face. The other girl is cackling before she can throw it.

"Don't be jealous just 'cuz you can't," Clarke fires back.

"Don't need to when I have you as my closer." Raven winks as she says it and Clarke almost hates her for it. Almost.

She can handle the teasing, really. Lexa is -- among all the good and virtuous things that Clarke loves and respects about her -- really fucking hot. She will gladly take one for the team whenever necessary.

Though, in reality, Lexa may be impossibly attracted to her, but she's not so easily swayed.

Much to Clarke's dismay. Not that she's tried or anything.

Octavia just snorts from the corner where she stands with her arms crossed.

"She's making good progress and she's interested… which is more than I really ever thought she would be."

"I guess," Raven shrugs. "I'm just happy that I can work with something I understand."

Her idea buzzes to life again. She tucks it away to ask Lexa about later.

"Has anyone heard from Murphy lately?" She quickly changes the subject instead. Not wanting to think about Lexa in bed. Not when it'll be hours until she can actually have her there.

"He sent a message the day after you left, actually. Says he's settled in, but he hasn't seen any of the other guys. Roan apparently offered him some hunting lessons, so I guess he's liking it there." Raven answers from behind the panel.

"It's still so weird that he left," Octavia adds.

"Not really. Not when you think about it -- plus, he might be back."

Octavia scoffs. "I think he's going to become Roan's new pet project if you ask me. I wouldn't be surprised if he gets pulled into some Ice Nation council or something. We're all being sucked in here."

It's not entirely a crazy possibility. Clarke hopes he's happy.

That they're all happy with these new lives they've chosen.

They continue light conversation until Raven's annoyance with the panel gets the better of her and she starts kicking it. Clarke and Octavia scuttle away unseen before the violence gets worse.

 

Xx

 

Lexa practically wilts under her coat once she's back in their room. She lets out a huge sigh and plops -  _plops_  - on the couch next to Clarke.

"Long day?" Clarke sets Rebecca's journal aside and leans into Lexa's space to kiss her jaw, her cheek.

Lexa groans in response and Clarke huffs out a laugh against her skin. She reaches up and tilts Lexa's face closer, seeking out lips. Lexa practically purrs against Clarke's mouth. "Better?" She hums in agreement and kisses Clarke properly. Clarke's stomach swoops. She hopes she never, ever, gets used to this feeling.

"I should call up dinner," Clarke says quietly, pulling away from Lexa's mouth -- her wonderful, beautiful mouth -- and working the buckles on the overcoat Lexa has yet to remove. It's her summer coat, lighter and different but still… _so many buckles_.

"Dinner would be good, I missed lunch today."

Together they work Lexa out of her formal Commander gear and into something more appropriate for the warm weather. There are sleeveless shirts and pants that stop at the knees and Clarke is weak for the skin on display. The muscles. The tattoos.

She calls up dinner as Lexa curls into the couch.

"Hey -- before you get all sleepy, I have something to talk to you about."

Lexa, with a sigh, sits up just a little bit.

"I visited Raven's lab today. She's ready. I can feel it."

And now, the Commander perks up. Officially. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, she's bored. Even working on the solar panels."

"Clarke, boredom doesn't necessarily equate to being ready."

"For Raven it does. She needs a new challenge." Clarke can see the second Lexa understands her meaning. Of course it's what Lexa responds to. The girl how didn't know how to rest until all twelve clans were at her heel. "Are you? Ready?"

It's new territory. Allowing someone other than the  _fleimkepa_ to see the sacred space, to read the journals of  _Pramheda_. Clarke has had to tread lightly. So lightly. Like the fine snow that dusted the ground on early mornings before the thaw. Lexa's jaw tightens and she closes her eyes for a moment.

Just a beat.

"Yes." Her answer is firm. Resolute.

"Positive?"

Green eyes flick open and meet her with unexpected intensity. "As I can be. I have seen how easily you've gone through our history. How it's all made sense to you in ways we haven't always been able to. _Pramheda_ used to speak to me about her journals and life as it was for her, but it was still…  _off._  I couldn't quite understand it even though she was in my head." Lexa takes a breath. The Flame has still never come back to life. "I trust you or I would not have appointed you  _Fleimkepa_. You trust Raven. That is enough for me."

She reaches out and grabs Clarke's hand.

"Part of this new alliance, part of life with the _Skaikru_ … life with  _you_ … is learning about balance. She turns her attention back to Clarke. All of it. The sun beaming down on a little flower with all of its intensity. "It has been a lesson for me, as much as it has been for you. What your people can teach us, what they've brought to us, is not like anything we would have had before. The Mountain used their tech against us, but your people are different."

"Their tech was also outdated," Clarke scoffs.

Lexa looks as if she struggles not to roll her eyes. "You may show the texts to Raven, and only Raven, but I would also like to speak with her on this matter."

"Of course." Clarke struggles to hold back the smile that's fighting to get out so she doesn't. She squeezes Lexa's hand and drops her head onto Lexa's shoulder. "If you feel like it's ever too much, just tell me, and I'll slow it down, okay?"

"Okay." A kiss is dropped on her forehead and warmth oozes through her, her skin tingles where it touches Lexa's.

A knock at the door announcing their dinner interrupts them before they both slip into an easy nap.

 

Xx

 

"There's a new song, you know," Clarke says with a sly smile as she slides under the furs more than ready for bed.

"There are always new songs," Lexa answers, barely restraining an eye roll while reaching out and pulling Clarke's body closer. Many myths have cropped up in the months since Lexa's return. She, however, seems unfazed.

"There are…" She sing-songs but does not offer anymore, wanting to be asked. Lexa has become familiar with this game.

"And what have you heard today, my love?"

"I walked by a group of kids very excitedly singing that you were on the brink of death before I found you and swooped down and brought you back to life. I think it was something about how I had to breathe the new day back into you." She smiles and rolls her eyes. "As if I would swoop anywhere."

"The great  _Wanheda_ , I hear she has many talents… I hope you've grown fonder of your title, it's sticking with you." Lexa yawns. "I've heard similar tales, whispered just loudly enough as I pass to reach my ears."

"Poor Maryl. She deserves the credit -- I didn't do anything."

"Maryl knows. And I know. She is happy where she is, and we're all happy now that you're teaching her."

"Did I tell you the one about how I apparently fought death for your spirit?" She snorts and Lexa leans closer.

"I can't decide if you think that one's crazy or your favorite."

"Can't it be both?"

"Hmm, I suppose." She stifles another yawn and moves ever closer to Clarke. Their noses brush and she finally closes the tiny distance to warm lips that greet her own.

A goodnight kiss she's been aching for.

Lexa falls asleep first. Head resting on Clarke's pillow. Arm slung around her torso. The hint of a smile.

There is a certain peace to Lexa in her sleep. The youth on her face is allowed to shine through, in her cheeks, in her softness. Long lashes rest on those cheeks, curled and beautiful. Painted on her eyes. Her petted lip so perfect. Clarke wants nothing more than to feel it against her mouth but she won't move. Will not wake Lexa. Her deep silent breaths and soft sleep sounds.

The features will age, will sharpen even further. The years will weather them, refine them. Hone them down. Clarke will see it all but Lexa, Lexa will always look like this to her.

Small, delicate. Tender. A girl.

A girl with the entire world on her back. Except like this. In bed.

With Clarke.

There will be storms and anger. Happiness and laughter. Grief. Confusion and ego. Love. Passion. Friendship. Partnership.

The years may bring what they will for them both, but like this… like this they are untouchable.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems I have a habit for finishing up big, unruly fic in the fall season.  To anyone who is still here: thank you.  Thank you for your patience and your kind words and your support.  I see you.  I did not anticipate this fic taking me so long to complete, but I am glad that it did. 
> 
> I also need to give a big and very grateful round of thank yous to Jenna, Nachos, and Mopey who all offered support and guidance and proofreading.  This fic has been a labor of love of mine for longer than I realized. It has offered me a way to soothe my soul and the aches placed there unnecessarily. I hope it has done that for you as well. Death, it would seem, is not the end. Not for them.
> 
> To all of you who came with me on this sad, dark and then happy, fluffy journey, you're the best. I know that canon is not for everyone, not anymore. 
> 
> But, you, dear reader, you trusted me. You trusted the story. That's all we can really ask of you.
> 
> For that trust, I am eternally grateful.


End file.
